


Watch Me Bleed

by dylinski



Category: American Assassin (2017), American Assassin - Vince Flynn
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Blood, Death, Explicit Language, F/M, Flirting, Fluff, Major Character Injury, Masturbation, Night Terrors, Nudity, Oral Sex, Slow Burn, Smoking, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-11-09 08:03:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20850167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dylinski/pseuds/dylinski
Summary: Being a doctor wasn't easy, but being one to these military boys was worse. According to Stan Hurley, "You are here to mend their broken bones, but outside of that, you know nothing of the operation or why they are here." And you were absolutely okay with that. Working in medicine takes a certain iron will, but you took an oath to heal and do no harm. Whatever these men were doing, harm was most certainly involved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be a one shot, but then I hit 2.5K. Apparently I don't know how to do one shots becuase everything I start writing is turning into WIPs. I had been wanting to write something for American Assassin but had no idea what. This took me a while, but per usual, it just kind of came to me as I was typing. This is for the movie and book fandom. I've taken elements from both and kind of made a mixture. I like the way it turned out. Feedback, positive and negative is always appreciated. Thanks.

“Mitch, you still with me?” You caught his attention and he looked up and nodded at you as you continued to examine his arm. Being a doctor wasn’t easy, but being one to these military boys was worse. Day in and day out they came in, multiple times a day. They pushed their bodies to their limits, which lead to health problems, whether they reveal themselves now or later on in life. “It doesn’t look broken, but you should avoid doing anything that could make it worse. Otherwise, you’re good to go.” He gave a polite nod and hopped off the table, rubbing his arm as he left. Every man you examined didn’t know how to stop talking from the moment they stepped into the office, but Mitch was different. He had been here for three months and hadn’t said a single word to you once. Stan or another trainer would bring him in, tell you what you needed to check, you’d clear him, and then he’d give you the polite nod, and leave.

His presence and silence grew on you, making him easy to work with. His lack of communication wasn’t rude or arrogant, but calming and peaceful. He had a way of communicating with his eyes and facial expressions. By now, you knew what each and every one meant intimately. According to the other men who came to see you, Mitch was quiet with everyone and kept to himself. He would speak to them here and there, but not without reason. You never saw him outside of this room though. Your office was in the main cabin, but you lived in a smaller cabin a few miles outside of the property lines. It was better that way for everyone, or how Stan Hurley had put it.  _ You are here to mend their broken bones, but outside of that, you know nothing of the operation or why they are here _ . And you were absolutely okay with that. Working in medicine takes a certain iron will, but you took an oath to heal and do no harm. Whatever these men were doing, harm was most certainly involved.

“Hey Stan,” You walked into the kitchen of the cabin, which was more like a mansion made of wood, and found him sitting at the table reading a newspaper. The aroma of coffee and cigarettes invading your nostrils the second you entered. “I thought you quit.”

Without even looking up, he responded in a raspy voice, “I did.”

All you could do was shake your head. There was no point in arguing with the man since he wouldn’t listen to anyone, especially a doctor. He could hold his side of an argument until both of you were blue in the face. “I’m headed back to my cabin for the evening. Anything you need before I go?”

Again, without his eyes leaving the paper, “Nope.”

Thanking God he couldn’t see it, you rolled your eyes at the man and began walking out. As you were opening the door to your car, one of the agents was running up to you with haste and urgency. His last name was Jones, but only Stan, a few instructors, and yourself knew that. None of the recruits were allowed to use their real names and were all given an alias when accepted into the program. His was Glenn, you were pretty sure anyways. “Wait!” He shouted, out of breath as he made his way to where you stood. 

“What is it Glenn?” You asked. His words were separated by breathes. For someone in his physical condition, it shouldn’t be that hard for him to catch his breath. You made a mental note to see him in your office later.

“Victor…and...Irv.”  _ Shit. _ Victor was Stan’s inside man. He posed as another recruit and weeded out what Stan deemed “unworthy” trainees. You most certainly didn’t approve of Victor’s methods since it usually ended with him in your office after the booted agents punched him in the face. What frightened you most though was Irv. That was the name designated to Mitch. Your first fear was that Victor got to him and he was being kicked out of Orion, but then you realized you had never seen him fight. You knew Victor’s handiwork all too well, and for all you knew, Mitch was getting the shit kicked out of him.

“Show me.” Was all you said as Glenn started running back towards the barn and you followed at his heels. You still had your medical bad hanging on your shoulder, which was good, because you had no doubt you would need it. You had never been to the barn before, or anywhere on the grounds besides the main cabin. If they were injured, they always came to you. When you arrived at the large doors, the barn was, in fact, a barn. The inside had been renovated and looked like a gym, concrete floor with large mats for combat training. The walls were lined with weights, bars bolted to the walls, and other types of equipment.

As you scanned the room, all the recruits and instructors were huddled around a mat in the far corner. You ran over and pushed your way through the sweaty and smelly men. When the sea of bodies parted, what you saw left you speechless with a smug smile. Mitch had Victor’s head between his thighs and was holding his arm above his head. Seeing Victor’s face, a mixture of red and blue, was satisfying. His face and shirt was covered in blood. It was hard to tell from where you stood, but you were pretty sure Mitch broke his nose at some point before you got there. The arrogant son-of-a-bitch deserved it. Every time he came in to see you, he would flirt by telling you how sexy you were, or by smacking your ass, and other things like that. Team Mitch all the way.

Lost in the thralls of violence, everyone went silent when a furious Stan stomped onto the scene. “What the  _ fuck  _ is going on here?” He shoved through the crowd and Mitch immediately released his grip on his victim. He shot up, standing tall and straight as all the other men, with the exclusion of Victor, did as well. He looks over Mitch and Victor, shaking his head and then stalks towards the long haired man. “What the fuck do you think your doing? You can bet your ass I’m gonna get you kicked to the curb.” Mitch moved his gaze from looking into the distance to looking Stan directly in his eyes. A chill ran down your spine as you recognized the look he shot at the steaming man.  _ I dare you. _

If the old man wasn’t mad before, he sure as shit was now, his face turned beet red. It got you thinking that he should probably start monitoring his blood pressure if Mitch didn’t get the boot. Stan rushed the boy and stopped with their noses almost touching. He raised his hand with a pointed finger, frozen until he realized that everyone was now watching the two of them. He stepped back, composing himself, but his anger was still clearly visible. He turned to you and motioned to Victor, who was writhing on the floor, “Clean that shithead up.” All you did was nod, fearing anything you said would stir him. You stood like a statue as he stormed out, most likely to call Irene. You started towards the man on the floor, who was now sitting up and touching his face.

“He broke my nose.” Victor whined.

“I know buddy. I know.” You told him as you helped him up. As you guided him out of the barn, clear as day, you heard Mitch scoff with arrogance from behind and couldn’t help but smile. You were starting to like this guy.

Your office was on the lower level of the building, so when you brought Victor in, you weren’t surprised by bangs, crashes, and inaudible shouts coming from above you. Ignoring them, you sat Victor on the examination table and went to the sink to wet a cloth. “It looks like the bleeding has stopped. Use this to wipe off the blood so I can get a better look.” You handed him the rag and pulled out his file. When he had cleaned his face, you went over to examine his nose. “I see in your file that this is the 6th time your nose has been broken. You must have some terrible scar tissue on the cartilage.” He answered with a grumble in his throat, which was unusual. You turned to get something for Victor to bite on. Out of view, you laughed to yourself thinking, damn, Mitch actually shut this bitch up.

“Bite down on this.” You say as you hand him a leather strap. 

“Why?”

“Because I need to set the bones in the bridge of your nose or it’s going to heal crooked.” He glared at you as he placed the material between his teeth. “On the count of three. One. Two.” You put all your strength into the movement to push the bone back into its proper place. An audible crunch was muffled by the shouts of Victor through gritted teeth.

“You said three!” He growled at you.

“Did I?” You smirked at the irritated man. “You should be good to go. If the pain becomes too unbearable, I’ll see about giving you some painkillers.” He turned and stomped out like a two year-old, mumbling inaudible obscenities under his breath. You crossed your arms, laughing and shaking your head at the tantrum. You turn to clean up the mess he left behind when a knock causes you to spin back around. You were surprised to see Mitch standing in the doorway, smirking. You had never seen that look on him before, and you liked it. You motioned to the table and he hopped on, grabbing his shoulder and wincing at the motion. You shot him a look and he smiled back, trying to ease your concern. You turn to him and lightly touch his arm.

“AH.” You immediately shoot your hands back as if you were surrendering as he winced to your touch.

“Is it your shoulder or your arm?”

“Both.” He says, looking at you innocently. You realized that this was the first time you had ever heard his voice. Surprised by how soft and warm it was, contrasting his hard and worn exterior, it left a look of surprise on your face. Mitch mistook your expression and worry fell to his. “Is that bad?” You brought yourself back to the moment.

“Um. I don’t know yet. I’ll have to examine it. Let me know if the pain is too much.” He nodded in agreement. As you lift his arm, he closed his eyes tight and looked away, gritting his teeth. You knew the pain was worse than he was letting on, but he was the type of man who could handle it. You didn’t know anything about him besides his medical history and name, but by the look in his eyes, you could tell he had suffered enough pain for multiple lifetimes. Part of you wondered what he had gone through, but you also knew it wasn’t your business and you had no right to ask. His face seemed to relax as you slowly turned and lifted the extremity. “It doesn’t hurt anymore?”

“No, it still does. I’m just getting used to it.” You raised your eyebrows as you gently laid the arm back down.

“Pain isn’t bad, you know? It’s good. It's our bodies telling us something is wrong. The brain registers the pain and tells us where it’s hurting so we know what to fix.” You smile at him as you try to explain. He looks down to his feet for a moment, then looks back up to you with moist eyes that refused to let tears fall. The pain you had seen in his eyes in the past, now brimming and overflowing.

“What if everything hurts...all the time?” Your smile melted away as you swallowed the lump in your throat. Your own eyes now reflecting his sorrow. You both knew he wasn’t talking about physical pain. You didn’t know say to that, so he looked back down to his feet when you failed to respond. After a minute of thick silence, he sat up straight.

“So, um. It doesn’t look like a break, but there’s a good chance your humerus is fractured and you have a sprained shoulder. If you had listened to me earlier today, your arm would be fine” He looked at you with frustration. You knew it wasn’t towards you, but because of what you said. “You’ll have to get a x-ray and most likely wear a sling for a couple weeks.” He turned his head to look at the floor and grunted with the motion. “I’ll let Stan know. Try not to use your right arm or shoulder for the time being.” He grunted in acknowledgment, giving his familiar polite nod as he slid off the table and left.

With Mitch gone, it was silent. When that normally would have been nice, it worried you as you remembered the state Hurley was in earlier. You headed upstairs and found him sitting at the same table as earlier, drinking straight from the bottle and smoking a cigarette. You went to sit across from him. Yes, the man was your superior and scared you most of the time, but you caught glimpses of him being vulnerable and this was one of those times. “I’m guessing you didn’t like what Irene had to say.” Irene Kennedy is someone you have known for many years and a good friend. She’s the one who asked you to join Orion, knowing she could trust you not only to take care of ‘her boys’, but also to be discreet about the operation.

“No. In fact, she said she’s on her way right now.” He said mockingly and slightly slurred. “Apparently kicking the shit out of Victor isn’t grounds to exile him. She said I was stupid to put him with the recruits, undercover. She also said if I did anything or talked to Mitch before she got here, I’d never hear the end of it.” He scoffed in disgust at the idea of her shaking him down. You smiled at the inconsolable man and started to get up when he stopped you. “She’ll be here in an hour. She wants to talk to you too since you saw more of it than I did.”

“I only got there a couple minutes before you did. I don’t know what she would want to talk to me.” He rolled his eyes in agreement, but there was no arguing with Irene, she was just as bad as Stan. You sat back down and grabbed the bottle from in front of aged man and took a long gulp. He laughed as he relaxed his face.

“Damn girl. If I had known you had the stomach, I’d have invited you to drink with me sooner.” You laughed as you were drinking, causing you to choke on the bourbon. You started a coughing fit that was laced with a laugh. 

Wiping away the bit of liquid on your chin, you responded, “Oh yeah. Before I forget, Rapp needs an x-ray.” And just like that, Stan was back on his shit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of boring, sorry. The next one is fucking worth it though, I promise. ;)

Both you and Stan sat there, passing the bottle of bourbon back and forth, waiting for Irene to arrive. About forty-five minutes had gone by when you both hear the door to the cabin slam open. Being slightly drunk, neither you nor Stan seemed too concerned. Irene came into the room, eyes scowling Stan. He looked to the woman and spread his arms out wide, “The ‘Queen B’ has arrived.” He shouts jubilantly. Irene is obviously pissed.

“Are you drunk, Stan?” She screeched at the man.

“Uh oh. Someone’s in trouble.” You sang, but your comment was not welcomed as they both shot you a look. “I’m just gonna go…” You trailed off as you pointed towards the door and started to get up.

Irene stepped towards you and pushed you back into your seat. “You. Stay.” Shit. She’s using one word sentences which was a very bad sign. You looked down to your feet as your eyes widened and you pulled your lips in. You were pretty much the toddler who got caught in this scenario. While Stan and Irene were going at it with each other, you paid no attention to their words, putting all your strength into keeping your mouth shut. You weren’t a good drunk. No filters. “Y/N!” You were caught off guard as Irene shouted your name to get your attention. You struggled to concentrate, stuck in your own little world, but you managed.

“That’s me.” You slurred your words and Irene noticed.

“You’re drunk too!? God damn it!” You shrugged your shoulders at your friend. “What the fuck happened with Rapp today?” You shrugged again, shaking your head. Your lids started feeling heavy. You’re pretty sure you looked just as drunk as you felt at this point.

“I dunno. I got there few minutes for Stan. Tell me.” The alcohol was definitely making it into your system now. Even you barely understood what you said. You expressed the confusion and Irene mirrored it.

“Great. A drunk who can’t hold her liquor and a drunk with self-control issues.” She threw her hands up and looked to the heavens as if she were asking for answers. “Stan, go lay down on the couch and sleep it off. Y/N, sleep it off in your office. I’ll come back in the morning. And the two of you better have your shit together.” With that, the angry lady stormed out. Stan had no intention of sleeping it off yet, and grabbed a second bottle. He wasn’t as nearly hammered as you were. You guess when you drink like an alcoholic every day for twenty years, you build up some tolerance. He offered you some, but you held up a hand and waved him off. You bid him goodnight and followed Irene’s instructions to sleep it off in your office.

You stubble down the steps, almost falling twice, but made your way to the office in one piece. Not even thinking to close the door behind you, you flopped onto the examination table. You had one leg hanging off the edge and your arm slung across your face. Letting out a sigh, you started to relax some. That didn’t last long. You slid off the table in a jerky motion, but catching yourself with your arms on the edge, when you were startled by a knock. You’re pretty sure a few obscenities escaped as you fell. “Jesus Christ. You scared me shitless.” You looked up to see a tall, muscular man leaning on the door frame. He was chuckling at your current state, but thanks to the liquid courage, you didn't care and smiled back. “Oh hey. It’s you.” You noticed he had a homemade sling on his right arm. It looked like it was from an old tshirt. “Aaaaawww. You listened to me.” You couldn’t help but beam at him, eyes full of appreciation. He laughed, a sound you could get used to, and started towards you. He squatted down next to you and helped you up with his left side. He smelled of lavender and woods. As he raised you, you slipped and fell into him as he caught you. Leaning against him, you looked up to his whisky eyes that were usually dark and full of pain. Your face relaxed as you examined his features, taking in his beauty. He raised you up, and you assisted, pushing off his chest and balancing on your feet. “So, um. What can I do you? FOR YOU. I meant do FOR you.” He scoffed and blushed, but it was nothing compared to the fire burning in your cheeks.

“My arm was aching. I was wondering if I could get something for the pain.” He held his arm as he spoke, as if he were protecting it.

“I have the stuffs for you.” You turned to go to the medicine cabinet and tripped on your feet. Mitch leaned in to grab you, but thankfully you caught yourself on the table in front of you. “I miiiiiiiight be a little drunk.” You said as you looked at him. He smiled a tight smile with raised eyebrows that spoke _ ‘I know’ _ as he nodded his head in agreement. “I probably shouldn’t medicine right now.” You sat down in the chair at your desk. He walked over next to you and rested his ass against the desk.

“I noticed.” You just kept smiling at him, happy that he was happy. Although he never spoke a word to you before today, you felt like you knew him better than any of the other recruits. He rested his hand on your shoulder and a calmness washed over you, almost sobering you up. You cocked your head at him in curiosity.

“Why do your eyes hurt?” You asked innocently. You realized you were still slightly intoxicated and had zero filters. “Shit.” Covering your mouth you gasped, just as surprised at your question as he was. Despite your lack of proper English, he understood what you meant and his eyes shifted back to a dark chestnut. Just like that, his smile melted away and his posture stiffened. He looked straight ahead into the empty, looking like he was worlds away. You placed your hand on his thigh and he shook his head, returning to you. “I’m sorry. That was a stupid question.”

“It’s okay. And it wasn’t. It was a good question, I’m just not ready to answer it.” You nodded, acknowledging his vulnerability in that moment, but that was all he could handle. He stood up, rustled the hair on top of your head and shot you a quick grin as he turned and left. When he was out of earshot, you groaned in embarrassment and let your head fall onto your arms on the desk. You rested your head there as you thought about the man and what could have hurt him so badly. It’s not like you were being nosy or intrusive. You genuinely wanted to know so that you could understand him and maybe even try to help him feel better. What can you say? You’re a doctor and all you want to do is fix people. Fix him.

\------

You woke up around 6:30AM and felt like your head was going to explode. The migraine echoed in your skull, making the room pulsate. You got up and opened the medicine cabinet.  _ Shit _ . The memories of last night played back in your mind. Starting with the drinking with Stan, then getting reamed by Irene, coming down here to crash, then Mitch and the shitshow that was. You pulled some painkillers from the cabinet and found your spare outfit in the closet. After changing, you washed your face and brushed your hair, attempting to look like you weren’t hungover. You decided to explore the grounds for the first time and fine Mitch to give him the meds.

You left the warm and cozy cabin, greeted by a brisk and cold world. The sun was still just above the horizon, giving off a low light. You went down to the barn where everyone would be having breakfast. You found a table had been erected in the center of the large open area where the men were chatting and chowing down. Mitch was on one end of the table, surrounded by the recruits who couldn’t stop talking about his victory over Victor. The latter was sitting and sulking alone on the opposite end of the table. Mitch saw you and stood up, ignoring the others and walked over to you, standing in the doorway. You noticed he wasn’t wearing the sling anymore, which made sense if you think about it. He didn’t want to show weakness or injury in front of the others, especially Victor. He may take it as an opportunity to get his revenge. You were thankful for the year you spent in the psychology department, it came in handy when assessing these guys. Most of them were pretty fucked up.

“What’s up?” He kept his voice low, as to not draw attention from the others. They were too engrossed in their own conversations to care though.

“Oh. Um. I brought you some painkillers. For your arm.” You held of the bottle, offering it to him as you mentally scolded yourself. No shit, Sherlock. Of course he knows they’re for his arm. He raised his eyebrow, but gave you a brief smile and nodded as he accepted the bottle.

“Thanks.” He shoved it in his pocket and headed back to the table before you could say anything else. Feeling insecure now, you turned and hurried back to the house. You couldn’t help but let a groan escape when you saw the large black SUV sitting outside. You sulked up the stairs to the main door and took in a deep breath before you entered. The moment the door cracked, screams and shouts escaped. If you weren’t awake before, you sure as fuck are now.

Irene was the first to notice you entered the room, “Nice of you to join us.” She said mockingly. “Have a seat.” Even though both of them were standing, the room was still spinning, so you listened and sat at the table as mom and dad continued to fight. After arguing about being drunk last night, they finally settled and sat down to discuss the whole reason for Irene’s visit. “Stan tells me that you got there before him, so you saw more of what happened.”

“Not very much. I was only there a minute or two before him. Rapp had Victor in some choke-hold position thing with his legs. His nose was already broken. That’s when Stan showed up.” You had little knowledge of combat or any type of military training, so that was the best you could describe it.

Irene immediately turned to Stan, “You didn’t tell me he broke his nose.” Stan threw his arms up and shrugged his shoulders, immune to her shots.

“Victor probably fractured Mitch’s arm and sprained his shoulder.” You added. Irene gave you a look that read, ‘ _ Why are you talking’ _ . You bowed your head and allowed the adults to continue. They were arguing over if Mitch should stay or not. Irene wanted him there, claiming he was the best recruit they had seen in years. Stan wanted him gone, telling her he was a shitshow and he wasn’t here to babysit. His biggest argument was that they only had a few rules, one of them being that you don’t beat up other recruits.

“Well Victor isn’t a recruit, Stan.”

“Rapp doesn't know that.” Stan stood firm in his opinions and fought tooth and nail until Irene pulled out the bigs guns after she had finally had enough and not gained any ground with him.

“Well Stan, your opinion doesn’t matter in all of this honestly.”

“And why’s that?”

“This comes from above me. The director wants Rapp here. He agrees that Rapp is the best we’ve seen for a long time and we need him for this to work.” A look of shock fell over your face as she mentioned the director and Stan mirrored your expression. Director Stansfield was basically in charge of the entirety of the CIA. He was one of the people who created Orion, the others being Stan and Irene’s father before he died. For liability reasons, Stansfield put Irene in charge of Orion, but every once in a while he would poke his head out and check up on the program. You only knew this much because you had been a part of the program for the last five years and been friends with Irene for just as many. She had to vent to someone, and why not the doctor. 

The reason she found and recruited you was for your intelligence. You graduated high school at 15 and had your PhD by the time you were 21. That’s when they snatched you up. Getting that kind of degree in such a short amount of time was impossible, but somehow you did it, and it caught the eye of the government. When it came to life skills and people, you were a bumbling idiot. Medicine is what you knew and what you loved. You were always thankful to Irene because you had terrible bedside manner and they didn’t care about that here.

Stan concede the argument with nothing more than a nod, and Irene was lucky she got that much. She stood up, saying a couple more things to Stan before she said her goodbyes and left. Stan was in no mood for company, so you left too and returned to the sanctuary of your office. You realized you smelled just as bad as you felt and wanted to take a shower, but didn't feel like driving back to your cabin. You remembered there was a building by the barn that had lockers and showers. All the recruits were training, so it would be empty this early. You raided the supplies in the house and found a generic body wash, shampoo and a towel. Grabbed your second spare outfit, making a mental note to replace both since they were the only ones, and headed down to the barn to wash away the last 16 hours.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's that shit I promised. ;) this one is also a lot shorter than what i normally post.

Despite being the terrible at anything other than medicine, you were knowledgeable in basic survival skills. When you were younger, you were really close with your dad. He was a Navy SEAL, which is a big part of why you accepted Irene’s offer to join Orion. He taught you the usual, how to start a fire, catch, skin, cook, and eat a rabbit. What plants were poisonous and which ones were safe to eat and other things like that. Most of the skills are long forgotten, but a few of them stayed. Like the ability to know which way is north, looking to the sky and the shadows it casts to tell the time. For example, you could tell that it was roughly after 10AM. Damn Irene kept you in there for a long time. It was still nice that you were able to keep some of the skills your father taught you though. It made it feel like he was still a part of you after he died. Middle school is the worst, and having your dad die doesn’t help either.

It was a short trek to the showers from the cabin, and as far as you could tell, none of the recruits were nearby. You headed in and set up your soaps, then placed your towel on the sink so it wouldn't get wet. There were six showers total, three on the left and three on the right. There were no barriers between any of them, leaving a large open area. Behind you were a row of four sinks and mirrors. You took all your clothes off, throwing them in a pile on the floor. You stepped over to the left shower, closest to the sinks and turned the water on. It jetted out in spurts and then came to an eve flow. You tested the water, but it was still freezing and sent chills down your spine at its touch. A minute later, the water warmed up to a nice temperature.

You’re not sure how long you let the water fall over you, but the mirrors were now covered in a veil and steam clung to the air in every part of the room. You were thinking about Mitch and how blunt and different he was in front of the other men compared to last night. You couldn’t figure out if he was being that way because they were watching or because you did something. You had a pretty clear idea of what happened, but some of it was still foggy. You thought about how he listened to you when you said he would need a sling by making his own from a tshirt. Then you thought about his beautiful smile, and those honey eyes. The mole-speckled face that looked at you with happiness while he helped you up. Without even realizing, you found yourself rubbing your hands over your soapy torso, up from your stomach to your breasts. You squeezed your lump and pinched the nipple while your other hand found its way down to your core. You ran a finger through your fold and found the bundle of nerves that was throbbing for movement. You rolled it under your fingers, reaching down to your opening for wet.

“Oh shit.” The man's voice scared you so much that your scream echoed through the open area and threw yourself back, slipping on the slick floor to your ass, making a loud thump. You couldn’t see the figure through the steam, but he was tall and slender. Nonetheless who it was you became insecure and curled into yourself, covering you the best you could. The figure moved towards the sink, picking up your towel, and then moved towards you. Mitch toward above you, the smile you loved on his face. He was wearing gym shorts and a tshirt that had been completely saturated in sweat. He was laughing at you and handed you the towel. You took, wrapping it around yourself as best you could without revealing anything to him. He stood there, talking all of you in with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Turn around.” You gestured to the other direction when it appeared he wasn’t going to move. He rolled his eyes and turned around at your command. You stood up and readjusted the towel to cover you better. Shit this is a small towel, it just barely covers your ass. You look up and caught Mitch looking at your reflection in one of the less foggy mirrors. “Fucking bastard!” You shout at him as he looks up to the ceiling, laughing.

“I didn’t know you had such a dirty mouth too.” You froze at his words, staring at the laughing man, humiliated.

“Just fucking leave.” He shook his head while continuing to stare at the ceiling, refusing to leave his spot.

“I came in here to take a shower.”

“Then take a fucking shower. Don’t let me stop you.” He shrugged at your words and turned around to face you. He proceeded to take off his shirt, revealing toned abs and muscles. The veins in his arms were raised from whatever workout he had been doing before he came in. You noticed there were just as many moles over his body as there were on his face. He had a patch of hair in the center of his chest and another trail started at his belly button and lead to the waistband of his shorts. He saw your face and gave a cheshire grin as he pulled down his pants and kicked them to where he had thrown his shirt. There he was, completely naked, in all his jaw-dropping glory. You were mortified. He walked over to the right shower, opposite of the one you had used and turned the water on. He stood under the water and let it shower him, wetting his hair that was now sticking to his forehead.

“Can I use your soap?” Not entirely sure you heard the question right, you just nodded as you stared idiotically at the full man. He was clearly amused as he laughed while he walked across the open room to get the soap. Your eyes immediately focusing on, dear God that ass. You could bounce a dime off that thing. When he turned back to see you, he raised an eyebrow as he noticed you biting your lower lip. Realizing how stupid and ridiculous this was, you looked him over one more time, the waddled past him in an attempt to keep your towel from riding up. You grabbed your dirty clothes and clean ones and headed to the locker room next door. As you let, all you heard was Mitch laughing his ass off, making you aggravated.

The locker room was empty, thank God and had bathroom stalls. You locked yourself in one as you dried off your hair. After you dried your body, you had to wipe your cunt from how wet you had gotten from watching Mitch. You twitched as the towel ran across your sensitive nub. You thought about finishing what you started earlier, but the thought of Mitch walking in on you again, or someone else changed your mind. You quickly got dressed and then went back to the cabin. When you got to your office, you slammed the door shut and leaned your back against it as you let out a deep sigh. Jesus fucking Christ. The image of the scruffy faced man was burned into your skull, not that you were complaining, but that fact that you just stood there was insane.

Did he strip down in front of you to simply mess with you or because he had no boundaries? You were both adults and have seen naked people before, but there was a certain modesty that the average person took. Then it dawned on you, Mitch was anything but the average fucking person. He was a fucking rollercoaster. First he’s silent and brooding, then he’s strong and powerful. Next he’s soft and sweet, then hard and cold. Now what the fuck was he? A horny little asshole that liked to see you squirm.You can’t tell where he stands, always keeping you on your toes. You bounce off the door at the sound of your office phone ringing. God, what does Stan want now? You let the phone ring a couple times, deciding whether to play dead or actually answer the damn thing. After the fourth ring, you hear Stan’s muffled screams from upstairs. “Answer the damn fucking phone!” You roll your eyes and pick it up, pretending you didn’t hear him shouting.

_ “Sorry, I just walked into the office.” _

_ “Get your ass up here.” _ Stan immediately hung out without even giving you a chance to breathe. You groaned and made your way to the living area where Stan held most of his meetings. As you walked through the door, you noticed the back of the head you could recognize anywhere. You stopped in your tracks. Stan saw you and threw you a look of confusion, waving you to come to the table. “Why the fuck are you standing there?” You’re pretty sure he didn’t know how to form a sentence without the word _ fuck _ in it. You walked towards the table, but stood to the corner, out of view of Mitch. He must have known you were standing behind him because his back tensed as you approached. Knowing someone like him, you assumed he didn’t like people standing behind him in his blind spots. Being the pushover you are, you moved to stand next to where he was sitting. His body immediately relaxed at the movement.

“You’re taking Rapp to get his x-ray.”

“Excuse me. I’m fucking what?” Stan shot you a look for your tone. You didn’t normally speak to him like this, but after the last 24 hours, you felt off axis. Mitch being here was putting you on edge and that didn't help either.

“You’re his doctor, right?”

“Yeah. And? There will be plenty of doctors at the hospital.” You shot back.

“Well Rapp here, is a ‘secret agent’.” He made air quotations at the term, “and Irene wants as few people to know about him as possible. You know what to ask for and what to look for. You go with him.” You threw your hands on your hips, fuming with rage. Mitch started to chuckled under his breath at the sight of you which made you angrier. “Just put your fucking big girl panties on and do what I fucking say.” Stan motioned towards the door for you both to leave. You threw your arms in the air as you shouted, then turned and left to you office to grab Mitch’s file, your coat, and keys. Off to the hospital we go.


	4. Chapter 4

Mitch gazed out the window as you drove the two of you in your old sedan. His eyes never moved, meaning he wasn’t paying attention to the world passing, but somewhere in his own world. You would occasionally look over and catch glimpses of him, lost in thought, from the corner of your eye. The closest hospital was two hours away, which was the whole reason for you living on the perimeter of the facility. If anything life threatening happened to the recruits, you could keep them stable until help arrived. Thankfully, nothing like that had ever happened. You’d already been on the road for half an hour, but it seemed like Mitch was back to his old self, silent and trapped in his own mind. All your anxiety and anger towards him melted away a little more with every glance you stole of the sad man. You could feel his sadness just by looking at him, so instinctively, you placed your hand on his knee.

He blinked and looked to you, as if he had been in another reality. He gave you a forced smile, relaxing into his seat and then closed his eyes. You realized he did look exhausted, his eyes were heavy and bloodshot. It looked like he hadn’t had a good night's sleep in a long time. As he laid back in the chair, his head hung over his left shoulder, facing you. His limp body was finally at peace. You watched as his chest rose and fell with every breath. His lips were slightly parted and as his breath slipped through the tiny slit. You found yourself staring at his lips too long, biting your own bottom one when you suddenly heard a car horn. You jerked the car to the right, realizing you had drifted to the other lane of oncoming traffic.

“Holy fuck.” Mitch jumped in his seat, heart racing. He looked confused and scared. For a split second, he was innocent and vulnerable. Your face turned red with embarrassment just as quickly as his face turned hard and he gave you a stern look. You hesitantly smiled at the irritated brunette, but he seemed unchanged. “Pull over. I’m driving.”   
  
“No. First of all, you don’t know how to get to the hospital. I do. Secondly, you have one good arm.” Mitch rolled his eyes and turned to look out the window.

“At least I have one good arm.” He mumbled under his breath. You rolled your eyes, and like that, the arrogant asshole was back. You let out a deep sigh, which Mitch seemed to notice. He turned back to you, his features softened. He watched you as you drove, staring deeply, analyzing all of you.

“Can you not do that? You’re making me nervous.” He smiled and chuckled at your discomfort, but his smile is always so contagious, so you returned the gesture. “I need to get some gas.” You say as you take the next exit off the main road and pull into the station. You pull up to the pump and get out of the car. When you shut it, you close your eyes and compose yourself. You had never met another man like Mitch before. He stirred things in you that you didn’t know where there. How could you be so irritated and fascinated with him at the same time? You desired him but were disgusted by him. He made your mind and body a raging sea of feelings and emotions that became unbearable and put you on edge. A constant state of anxiety and paranoia. Being outside of the car and escaping his presence gave you a relief, but also left you feeling empty. You shook your head from your thoughts and started pumping the gas. Of course you had to fucking pee now that the meter was running. You opened the door, bouncing on the balls of your feet. “Um. I need to pee. Can you watch the pump for me?” Mitch laughed and nodded as he got out of the car. Feeling like you were about to pee your pants, you ran to the bathroom door outside of the station. You slammed the door behind you in a rush and sat down on the toilet just as you thought your bladder was going to explode. You let out a sigh of relief. When you were done, you washed your hands and caught your reflection in the mirror. You looked at your sunken eyes and it hit you how tired you were yourself. You hadn’t slept very well the last couple nights and it was catching up to you.

A knock at the door startled you, “Just a minute.” You shouted as you threw water on your face. Another knock sounded. Now annoyed, you shot back, “I said another minute!” You grabbed a paper towel and started to dry your face when the door opened. You froze with the paper towel over your face, remembering you forgot to lock the door in your rush. You slowly pulled the paper down and saw Mitch leaning on the door frame, smiling. “Don’t scare me like that!You could have been a bad guy!” You said as you shoved his right shoulder. He winced, grabbing it. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.” You touched his arm to help.

“Not helping!” He shouted as he winced a second time from your touch. Despite his agony and pain on his face, for some reason you had the urge to just laugh. He looked at you like you were crazy, but soon his features relaxed and he laughed with you.

“Honestly, I am sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay. But you’re gonna have to make it up to me.” He smiled and gave you a wink. Horror reflected in your eyes, trying to think of what he could possibly want from you. He turned around and started walking towards the car as you trailed behind him. He got into the passenger seat as you sat in the drivers. You looked at the clock and estimated you had about an hour drive left. Hopefully it went by quickly, because you weren’t sure you could survive much longer alone with him before you lost your shit. Mitch seemed more light-hearted as you moved along, he would look at you every now and then, shooting you a crooked smile. You had turned some music on to distract yourself from him, which seemed to help until he turned it off.

“Are you okay?” His question surprised you. He had never shown interest in you or your feelings in this way before. He wasn’t one to be sentimental or show concern. You took a quick look at his face before returning your gaze to the road and it showed true worry. You were always asking your patients and everyone else if they were okay, it came with the territory of your job, but you couldn’t remember the last time someone asked if you were okay. You weren’t sure if Mitch was aware of that fact or not, but it hit you hard and in your core. If you were being completely honest, you couldn't remember the last time you asked yourself that question.

“I don’t know.” You whispered, afraid the words would bring life to their meaning. You were as confused by your answer as he was, but he could tell you didn’t want to pursue the conversation, so he backed off. “Are you okay?” You asked him back, trying to throw the focus off yourself. He looked out the window as he answered.

“I don’t know.” He whispered back. Despite your lack of words, you somehow still understood each other and found comfort in the sound of the road and each others breathing. You both listened to those sounds until you arrived at the hospital. You pulled up and parked, then sat back and looked at Mitch, pulling out a file,

“I have your file, but it’s been changed some.” He raised his eyebrows. “Everything in here is the same with the exception of your name and being shot a couple years back.” He gave you a worried look. “No. I don’t know what happened to you. All they gave me was the medical report. Apparently Stan and Irene want as few people as possible to know about it.” His face relaxed as you answered his unasked question. You didn’t mean to sound that way, but when you answered, there was a hint of disdain. You hadn’t minded not knowing what happened to him, but after seeing how much it affected him, it's all that you could think about when you saw him. He noticed your tone, but chose to ignore it. “Let’s go.” You both got out of the car and headed into the building.

When you got inside, you went to the front desk, telling them you were there to see Dr. Kane for Irv Walters. They had you fill out some paperwork and then told you to take a seat in the waiting area. As you sat, Mitch sat with a chair between the two of you. He looked uncomfortable and on edge, like the last place he wanted to be was a hospital. You got up and moved over a seat to sit next to him. Apparently he didn’t appreciate it since his body tensed and he made a face of annoyance. “Why are you acting like a child?” You asked him with a stern tone.

“I don't like hospitals. And I definitely don’t like doctors.” You showed confusion as you looked at him like he was an idiot. He glared back, insulted by your look.

“I’m a doctor.” Realizing why you had made the face and that he unintentionally insulted you, he relaxed his muscles and looked at you with the most sincere look you had ever seen on him.

“You’re different.” Before you could say anything, a nurse entered the room and called you both back to see the doctor. You followed her into the back and down the hall until you were guided to an exam room, much like yours back at the cabin. You sat down in a chair and Mitch got onto the examination table. She did the basics, listening to his heart and lungs, taking his temperature and heart rate. You could tell he was annoyed, but he hid it well enough that the nurse was oblivious. You learned to read him and could tell how he was feeling and what he was thinking most of the time. When you don’t use words, a person always finds other ways to speak. The nurse went over the reason for the visit, confirming it was to examine Mitch’s arm and then she left.

“Mitch.” He looked at you, his face blank. “Why am I different?” He looked confused, but then remembered what he had said in the waiting room. He smiled and chuckled in his chest.

“You don’t bullshit.” You raised your eyebrows with a questioning look, so he elaborated. “Most doctors will dance around things and pick their words carefully, whether they’re with a patient or friends. You’re the opposite. You tell someone how it is. Not just when you’re being a doctor, but in your life too. You don’t pretend to be someone you’re not, and you’re not scared to be yourself either.” He smiled and was amused by the shock on your face. It had never occurred to you that he watched you the same way you watched him. Before the last 24 hours, you had never spoken a verbal word to each other, but felt like you had said a million. In that moment, what you saw in his eyes, the way he looked at you, something changed. You had only seen one other person look at you like that before, and it sent a fire down in your soul. Just as you were about to say something, the doctor walked in. Mitch tore from the locked gaze you shared, turning to meet the doctor. Rattled to the core, feeling like Mitch had just looked into your soul, you kept your eyes on him, dumbfounded.

“Dr. Y/L/N?” Dr. Kane looked at you.

“Um. Yes. I’m sorry.” You looked to the aged man, wrinkles forming at the corners of his eyes.

“I was just discussing with Mr. Walters about how he injured his arm.” You gave him an accusatory glance, unsure of what he had told him.

“My arm got caught in a door.” He said, giving you a look that read to trust him, and you knew deep down that you did.

“Yeah, right. A door.”

“Well, Dr. Y/L/N, what was your analysis?”   
  
You changed your tone and body language to be more professional, something Mitch hadn’t seen before. “Well, I concluded that he either pulled or sprained his shoulder ligament with a possible hairline fracture on his humorous.” Mitch shot you a mocking look and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Yes. I see that in your report.”

Unable to maintain your self control, you whispered under your breath. “Then why did you ask me?” Only Mitch heard and he laughed, leaving a smile on your lips and the doctor confused. He looked back down to the file, ignoring you both.

“Well, let's get you that x-ray then, Mr. Walters.” Dr Kane closed the file and set it back down on the table next to Mitch and left. As the door closed, both of you burst with laughter at his discomfort. You had never seen him laugh like this before, it was beautiful. His eyes were empty of the pain he always carried and filled with happiness. The noise calms and you take a deep breath, looking into his eyes. You reach out and touch his thigh, expecting it to be a nice gesture, but he tenses and jerks his leg away, looking down to the floor. You pulled back, feeling like you just misread the situation, but you hadn’t. Something changed and pulled him back just as quickly as he had escaped it. The nurse came back in and asked Mitch to follow her, he left the room following her, leaving you alone.

They were gone for a while, so you had time to yourself. After spending so much time with Mitch, you hadn’t realized how alone you actually were. How sad you were. Working with Orion wasn’t easy. You couldn’t build relationships or get to know any of the men, and most of them you wouldn’t want to. You had no friends and stopped talking to your mother years ago. While finally feeling happy and making a ‘friend’ was nice, you hated it. It was moments like this, when you were alone, that the thoughts of doubt and anxiety crept into your mind. It made you feel pathetic for being so dependent, but that was a part of human nature. We weren’t designed to be alone. We craved connection and communication. No one was immune to this basic instinct, not even Mitch.


	5. Chapter 5

Mitch came back wearing a sling, just as ready to leave as you were. You both rushed out of there and hurried to the car. You looked at the clock and saw that you had spent a little over and hour inside the building. It was about 7PM and your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn’t eaten anything at all today. “I’m starved. Let’s get some food.” Mitch shrugged and seemed indifferent. So you rolled your eyes and turned the engine over. You drove down the road, looking at different places to eat as they passed by. A burger place caught your eye, so you pulled into the parking lot and parked. Mitch looked at you as if he couldn’t imagine you eating a burger. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m craving something greasy.” He shook his head and laughed, still a sound you could never get tired of.

You sat down and looked over the menu, ordering a burger with all the toppings and a chocolate milkshake. Mitch got a burger too, just lettuce, tomato, and cheese. He avoided your eyes while he sat in the booth across from you, twiddling with his thumbs. Annoyed that he refused to look at you, you kicked him from under the table. He shot you a look as his body tensed. “At least you’re looking at me now.” He looked away, guilt covering his face. “What is it? You’ve been weird since we left the hospital.” He shrugged his shoulders, still watching his fingers fiddle with the paper from his straw. “Why have you reverted to the maturity of a five year old?” He looked pissed as he shot a look at you again. Maybe he was pissed, but at least it was something.

The food came and you both ate, Mitch sulking in silence. Beyond annoyed, you glared at him as you munched on your fries. Your limited knowledge of psychology kicked in and you decided to switch tactics. Your face relaxed and you wore a smile as you looked at him more softly than before. As if he felt the change, he looked up through his lashes.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like that!” He threw a hand towards you, frustrated. “Like you’re gonna eat me!”

“Eat you!?” You scrunched your face up at the idea, making a gagging motion. He chuckled and seemed to relax at your attempts to lighten the mood. “God damn. I can’t figure you out.” He hardened his face again, looking at you with questioning eyes.

“Why would you want to?” His question was serious, and you had to think about how to word your answer.

“You’re different. I’ve been working for Irene for a little over five years and there has never been a recruit like you. They all come from military backgrounds and are usually there to prove something. But you, I don’t think you’re military. I think you’re here because you lost something and you’re trying to find it again.” Mitch looked at you the same way he had last night. He looked naked and afraid, tears brimming at his lids. He wiped his eyes before they could fall, fighting back the emotions he deemed as weakness. He tried to play it off and ignore your words, but what you said shook him, rattling him to his core. You were afraid to say anything, so you left it at that. You both finished eating and you paid the check before the two of you got back into the car.

You’d been driving for half an hour when you yawned. “Let me drive.”   
  
“What?” You were startled by his voice, breaking the silence.

“You’re tired and look like shit.” His words were blunt and emotionless.

“Well, thanks? I guess?” Only Mitch could be sweet and an asshole at the same time. “I already told you. You can’t drive because of your arm.”

“The doc said I just bruised the bone. I should wear the sling for a week to prevent me from using it. I’m fine to drive.”

“You literally just said he told you not to use your arm.” You rolled your eyes at him as you started pulling over to the side of the road, recognizing how tired you actually were and that he was probably better off driving. “Not like that’s gonna stop you though. Right?” You turned to face him, giving him a face full of sarcasm. He rolled his eyes and got out of the car, so you did the same. When you both got back into the car, he adjusted the seat to make driving more comfortable. Then he proceeded to remove his sling, despite you throwing your arms up and groaning. He ignored you and started to drive. You sat slouched, crossing your arms and staring out the window, watching the trees as you moved passed them until you fell asleep.

\------

“Hey dad, home much longer until we’re home?” You asked your dad with raised eyebrows and curiosity. Your tiny feet hanging off the passenger seat, barely touching the floor.

“Soon, princess.” He looked over and smiled at you, a smile you loved and cherished. You nodded, accepting his answer despite the lack of specificity.

“Daddy, when are you going to stop leaving?” Your eyes held sadness in them, desperate for him to stay home and never leave again. Your dad being a Navy Seal was hard on the whole family. When he left you with your mother, she became depressed and isolated, leaving you to take care of her most of the time. He was your favorite person in the world, but he always left. He would come back after being gone for four or five months and stay maybe a week, but the time passed quickly. Recently, your mom was still sad when he came back and they would fight when they thought you couldn’t hear. Today was your last night with your dad before he left again in the morning.

“I don’t know, honey.” He looked at you with sorrow and regret, knowing he was letting you down yet again. He was a good father and loved you, but his absence was evident and felt deeply. You looked at his face, and noticed a spot on his right temple.

“Dad, are you okay?” Your little voice matched your expression of worry and confusion. Your father didn’t respond or acknowledge your question. He just stared at you with a chilling smile. Something started leaking from the spot and dripping down the side of his face. The streetlights illuminated the liquid as they passed. The color was red and the spot was a hole. Panic replaced the confused and horror filled your lungs. “Dad! Dad! What’s wrong? What’s happening?” You started whimpering and yelling, trying to jump from your seat to your father. His face was unchanged as he still had his gaze locked on you. “DADDY!”

You jumped out of your seat, screaming at the top of your lungs. Mitch slammed on the breaks of the car in response, horror over his face as he looked at you, tears streaming down your face. As soon as the car stopped you opened the door and flew out, running into the open field alongside the road. Mitch jumped out of the car and followed you about 50 feet from the vehicle stopped. You fell to your knees, tears streaming down your face as you moaned and whimpered, panting for breaths between sobs. Mitch caught up to you and fell beside you, grabbing your shoulders and pulling you into his chest. You stared into the darkness of the night, falling into him as he ran his hand through your hair. You ignored his words, trying to calm you, but his touch numbed the pain. You became empty and hollow, letting everything free from your mind.

Bringing yourself back to the moment, you closed your eyes and brought your hand up, squeezing Mitch’s arm. You turned your head into his chest and nuzzled against the cloth of his shirt, inhaling his intoxicating scent. His touch and smell washed over you, bringing you down from your terror. You could hear his heart racing in his chest and feel his breaths as they pushed past your ear. It was like he knew what you needed in that moment. No words. No questions. No sympathy. He gave you the safety your body craved and the silence your mind needed. You both sat there, him holding you tightly against his chest for as long as you needed. 

After your breathing evened and you sniffled, you looked up to his dark, concerned eyes. He gave you a sympathetic smile as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. It was like he knew exactly what you were feeling. Like he had gone through everything you were right now. He kissed your forehead and pulled you back into his chest, squeezing you one more time before he let go. He sat next to you, resting his arms on his knees. You leaned against him, resting your head on his shoulder as you held your stomach. “Do you want to talk about it?” His voice barely a whisper. There were a few brief moments of quiet before you answered.

“Remember when I told you that pain was good and it tells us what we need to fix?” He hummed, answering your question. “And you asked me ‘what if it hurts everywhere, all the time’?” He hummed again, but softer this time. You sat up and looked at him as he mimicked your motion. “What if…” You choked on your words. Mitch laid his hand on your shoulder, seeing your struggle. “What if...it hurt for so long that you’re numb? You become so used to the pain, loneliness, hopelessness...that it becomes...normal. After years of feeling like this, something changes and you feel...happy again. But only for the slightest moment. Then everything you had been living with comes rushing back in. You had forgotten you could feel anything else, but that difference made you recognize the agony and the suffering started all over again.”

Mitch whispered your name, his eyes filling with tears. This was the first time you had ever seen him allow himself to cry. He almost looked human. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it, changing his mind. He looked away, scrunching up his face in thought. His face went blank, but a stray tear still managed to escape every once in a while before he spoke. “I was on vacation in Ibiza with my girlfriend.” His words were quiet and soft as he continued to stare into the shadows. “We were in the water and I pulled out my mom’s ring. I asked her to marry me and she said yes, which wasn’t that much of a surprise. Everyone on the beach was clapping and congratulating us, and I got out to get us drinks to celebrate.” His words went from sorrowful to angry. “It was so stupid. Maybe if I had just stayed with her. Or if she had gone with me.” He stopped speaking, taking in a deep breath and releasing it with a sigh.

“I was at the bar when we heard the first gunshots.” Your body tensed, filling in the pieces before he spoke. “It was chaos. There had to be at least twenty guys with automatic rifles, just shooting everybody and anybody. It’s a miracle I didn’t die, but I should have.” You grabbed his shoulder in disagreement and he turned to put his face against it, kissing the top of your hand. “I tried to find Katrina. I screamed for her and saw her standing on the beach. I started running to her when I got shot in the leg. I fell, but didn’t feel it. I kept running to her. I was maybe 30 feet away when she was shot. I watched her fall on the sand. When I could almost touch her, he shot me right here.” He tapped the scar on his right shoulder through his shirt. “Then he walked around me, laying 5 feet from her, with that fucking smile on his face and…” He whimpered, but then stiffened, his voice going deep and filled with hatred. He spoke through gritted teeth. “She was already dying. He stood over her...and shot her...again, through the heart. He just left me there, to watch her die. I couldn’t do a Goddamn thing. I was just laying there, helpless and broken, staring at my dead fiancé.”

He finally looked back at you, his eyes red and swollen. “I don’t remember anything after that until I woke up in the hospital. They say I must have passed out from the pain and blood loss. I lost it when I woke up, screaming and fighting everyone. I hated that I woke up, that they saved me. I wanted to die on that beach with her.” His eyes turned black, brimming with fury. “But then I realized that I had a reason to live. I was going to find the bastards that killed her and look them in the eye as I took their lives, smiling, just like he did when he shot her.” Before that moment, Mitch had made you feel safe. With that look in his eyes, and his words, you feared him and the things he could do...would do. Out of that fear, you let go of his shoulder and leaned away impulsively. He took notice, and the darkness drained from his eyes, replaced by his familiar sadness.

The breeze rolled through the open field you were sat in, summoning a violent shudder from your body, covering in goosebumps. “You’re cold. We should go back to the car.” You nodded in agreement. Mitch stood up, then reached down and pulled you to your feet. You both walked back to the car in silence. You saw that the car was still running with both doors open. Thankfully it was late and a rural area, meaning there were no other cars on the road. Mitch continued to drive and you both welcomed the quiet as you continued the journey back.


	6. Chapter 6

The rest of the ride was quiet. Neither of you looked at each the entire time. You couldn’t figure out why, but you felt guilty after hearing the cause of all Mitch’s pain. Like he revealed a part of himself that wasn’t yours to know. At least it was a distraction from your own agony. You’ve had bad dreams before and more frequently recently, but none like that since your father died. He had left, like he always did, but this time he never came back. His unit had been stationed in a war zone, and they were attacked. Half of them were killed and the other half captured to be tortured for information, then killed. You always hoped his death was quick and painless, and that he wasn’t one of the poor bastards they kept as prisoners.

You were 12 when the men came to tell you and your mom about his death. The moment you opened the door and saw them standing there, you knew, but it wasn’t until they said the words that made it real. Everything in you begged for it to be a joke, a mistake. They had the wrong family and your dad was going to walk through the door and minute now. He was your world and best friend, and he always promised he’d come back. The officer that told your family didn’t know any of you, but you clung to him, preventing yourself falling to the ground. All you could scream between the sobs of your tears was “But he promised! He promised!” You relived that moment too many times to count, becoming numb to it.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize you had arrived back to the compound until the car came to a stop. Mitch had parked the car in front of your cabin. It was past midnight now, and all you could think about was passing out in bed after the chaotic day you’ve had. Mitch shot you a smile, and you returned it. You started to get out of the car realized he would have to walk back the five miles to the recruits sleeping quarters. “Do you want me to drive you back?”

“No. I can walk.” He seemed genuine in his answer.

“Are you sure? It’s five miles. I don’t mind.” You were annoyingly persistent.

“I can walk.” He wore a crooked smile that hung down in the corners. You nodded and agreed to let him walk the distance. He leaned against the driver side door as he watched you walk to the house and fumble in your bag for your keys. Once you got them in the door and unlocked it, you opened the way, but looked back just as he was turned and started his trek.

“Mitch,” He turned back on his heels, hands in his pockets. “Do you wanna come inside?” You bit your bottom lip, debating if inviting him in was a good idea. He shifted his wait between his feet as he considered the offer. Your heart leapt, filling you with butterflies as he started towards you and the door. You couldn’t be bothered with hiding the smile on your face, but his was still wary. You stepped to the side to allow him access, and he slipped past. You came in behind him, closing and locking the door before you flipped the light switch.

The cabin wasn’t huge, but relative to a small apartment. You had a kitchen with enough space for a small table. There was a sitting area when you first walked in with room for a loveseat and tv. Then there was your bedroom, which consisted of a queen bed, closet, and a dresser. The bathroom had two doors, one that connected to the sitting room and another to your bedroom.

“Do you want something to drink?” You offered the timid man. He stood awkwardly, keeping his eyes to the floor, his hands still in his pockets. You were quiet and less extroverted than usual too, but that was probably from being up for almost 24 hours plus the toll of the aftermath of the night terror.

“Sure.” You put your things down on the table and grabbed two beers from the fridge, popping off their lids with the blade of your pocket knife you just pulled out. Mitch laughed in his chest.

“What? You never know when you’ll need a blade.” You smiled as you walked over and handed him a beer. He just smiled and nodded in agreement. You moved over to sit on the couch, but Mitch continued to stand there like a clueless idiot. “Are you gonna sit or are you going to stand there all night?” You said sarcastically. He smiled, happy to see you being more yourself and moved towards the spot next to you. There wasn’t much space on the small two-seater, so when he sat, his weight shifted the cousins, creating a dip that pulled you towards him. Your legs and arms touching. You smiled hesitantly, and took a swig of your drink. You both sat there, speechless, occasionally taking sips of your beers.

After too many minutes of agonizing silence, you pulled your legs in and turned to face Mitch. “I just wanted to say...thank you...for earlier.” He smiled and nodded. “And what you told me...you didn’t have to, but I appreciate it.” His eyes became dark and he smirked, remembering the moment. You reached out and cupped his face, meeting your foreheads. You leaned against him with your eyes closed, letting his breaths wash over your lips. You opened your eyes after a moment and his were already wide. He looked at your eyes, and then darted to your lips for a brief moment before returning to your gaze. Your heart jumped as you licked your bottom lip. Your faces moved closer together, your lips close enough to touch. You both sat there, breaths mixing, for what felt like forever. Neither would make the next move, closing the barely existent space between your lips.

As if on cue, your reasoning kicked in and told you a million reasons why this would be a bad idea. You gulped, swallowing the lump in your throat. “I….I should….” Your voice croaked, your throat dry as a bone, as your lips brushed his with their movements.

“Yeah. You should.” He panted back, breathless. You yearned for his lips, his touch, his taste. Everything inside you screamed and wanted to kiss him, feel him, love him. Something inside you was raging and if you let it loose, you feared you wouldn’t be able to tame it. He made you feel alive and fearless, like you could be free of all your pain and sorrow. He was the light you had been looking for at the end of the tunnel and it was finally in your grasp. Despite everything you were feeling, and all your impulses, you stood up from the couch. You almost fell over as you lifted, flushed and clammy.

Mitch almost looked disappointed when you looked back, but his chest was heaving, begging for oxygen. He had been holding his breath without realizing. His face was pale and his eyes a different shade you hadn’t seen before, full of desire and lust. You were pretty sure you were going to choke from then lump in your throat, so without any notice, you rushed to the bedroom, slamming the door behind you. You turned and slid your back down the closed entrance, sitting at its base as you processed the last six minutes.

You could hear Mitch on the other side of the door, shifting on the couch. You took a deep breath, filling your lungs and exhaling as you came down from your high, relaxing your muscles. After composing yourself, you changed into your pajama shorts and spaghetti-strap tank top. You grabbed an extra pillow and blanket from your bed and prayed Mitch hadn’t left yet. You creaked the door open, afraid of what you’d find on the other side. He jolted his head in your direction, hope in his eyes. “Um. I brought you a pillow and blanket. In case you wanted to sleep here.” He smiled and accepted them. You stood there, feeling vulnerable and fumbling your limbs. He stared, taking you in. You watched him watch you, his eyes raking over your body. The short booty shorts, revealing the bottom of your ass. The top that let your stomach peek out. Your nipples, hugged by the material of your shirt. The straps, clinging to your shoulders and begging to slide off.

“Fuck it.” He jumped off the couch and slammed you into his chest, your lips crashing instantly. It was a violent and passionate kiss, filled with desire and need. His tongue swirled with yours, teeth clashing as you both deepened your kiss. His hands roamed your body while yours clung to the cloth of his shirt. He squeezed your ass with both hands, eliciting a groan from your lips and smile on his. He picked you up, your legs wrapping around his waist as he slammed you up against the wall. He balances you with his good arm while he used the other to slide under your top and cup your breast. He squeezed and kneaded your chest as his kisses flurried across your jaw and down your neck. He bit and sucked in the crevice as you let moans and whimpers escape into his ear. He came back up to your face, eyes full of lust and a devilish smile as he let you drop to your feet. He pulled off your top and dove in, taking in your nipple. He bit down lightly, letting his teeth graze the sensitive peak. He sucked and twirled his tongue until it was raw and red.

“Mitch...please.” You whimpered through wanton moans. He smiled at you, keeping eye contact as he slid down your stomach, leaving a trail of wet marks. He pulled down your shorts and panties, them pooling at your ankles. You stepped out and he threw them aside. He kissed up your thigh, brushing the sensitive skin with his scruff. He put a hand on either thigh, pushing them out to make more room for his mouth. He had the perfect view of your cunt and his face showed it. He licked a stripe through your folds, tasting your arousal. Your body jerked at the new sensation.

“Goddamn you’re wet, babygirl.” You looked down to him, begging with your eyes and biting your lower lip as your nails dug into the wall. He let out a small growl at your need for his touch and dove in, finding your clit with his tongue. He spelled out words that were unknown to you, sucking and nipping at your nub. He placed two fingers inside of you, scissoring and stretching your walls. The pressure in your stomach was past controlling and begged for release.

“Mitch.” His name danced on your tongue, escaping with breaths and moans. He could feel your walls tightening around his fingers and your clit throbbing against his tongue. He fastened the pace of his pumping digits, curling his fingers to hit the spot that you needed. You let out a whimper as your body shuddered and your orgasm coated his digits and mouth. He stood up, slipping each finger into his mouth, sucking off every bit of you. You’re eyes grew wide as you could feel your arousal burning again. He kissed you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. You pushed him off, gasping for breaths. “Fuck me.” He smiled devilishly as he pulled you to the couch. He bent you over the arm of the seat and smacked your ass, leaving a red print.

He ran a finger through your folds as he used his other hand to take off his pants. He then took off his shirt. He smacked your ass again, hard enough to leave a bruise, as he pumped himself in his fist. “You want me to fuck you, baby?” You whimpered, rubbing your thighs together to create some kind of friction as you moaned a yes to his question. He saw your legs and smacked your ass again in disapproval, eliciting another yelp from you. He rubbed his tip through your folds, coating it in your arousal that was now dripping down your thighs. Without warning, he slammed into you, causing you to scream and catch yourself as you lurched forward from the motion. You steadied and pushed back against his cock. He started relentlessly pounding into you, the sound of clapping skin filling the cabin. Your breaths matched his momentum, trying to keep up. His thrusts went deep and caused you to go weak in the knees. He pulled you up to his chest as he continued pounding, reaching new depths. He kissed and bit at your neck as he held your stomach in one hand and hip in the other, pushing you into him. You wrapped your arm back, tugging on his hair at the roots, making him grunt and growl.

Your soft screams started to become inaudible as you were reaching your climax. Mitch bit down hard on your shoulder, holding his own back as you came on his thick dick. Your body went limp in his arms and he pulled out, spinning you to face him. He helped you to the bed, where you fell on your back. He laid on top of you, kissing and licking the fresh teeth marks, then leaving a trail of new ones and purple spots. He laid between your legs and pushed himself in, slower than before. You gasped as he filled you, welcoming his cock. He pumped slow as he pushed a strand of matted hair from your face behind your ear. He looked at you as he thrusted, his hips meeting yours. This was different than before, less lustful and more sensual. You reached up and cupped his cheek as you wrapped your legs around his waist, meeting him with every movement. Your breaths heavy, mixing in the small space between your lips.

His focus was on you, and you alone. He watched as you moaned and writhed beneath him with every push and pull, the friction in you burning you to your core. He watched your lips and your eyes as they flew open and shut with all the different sensations running through you. He would come down and kiss you when your eyes were closed and your mouth open. They were desperate and full of a loving passion. The kind that consumed you and ate away until you could have the other person in their entirety. You gave yourself over to him in that moment. He was yours and you were his. “Mitch…” You spoke his name not out of pleasure, but out of need. When you said it, you weren’t actually saying his name, but something else. Something between lust and love. Something deep and with meaning. Something from the center of your soul that you didn’t know existed.

“I know.” He whispered back. Whatever it was you were trying to say, he understood and that was his way of saying it back. As his words left his lips, your coil broke, releasing everything that had built up. The desire, lust, pleasure, feelings, emotions. Everything you had felt for Mitch up to this point flooded out of you. It was a new kind of high that you had never felt before, and it left you feeling full and on fire. Mitch followed suit as he met his release. He kept your gaze as he whispered your name. He kissed your lips, twitching inside you as he rode out his high. He laid atop you, exhausted and drained. You wrapped your arms around him and kissed the top of his head. You could feel his lips turn upward against your chest. He didn’t move, just laying there, listening to your heartbeat and sounds of your chest as it would rise and fall. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it really picks up after this! thank you so much for sticking with me!

“Mitch…?” your voice echoed through the open space. Your vision was blurry, like a fog had veiled your eyes. You couldn’t see him, but knew he was there. “Mitch, where are you?” You cried out with desperation. Your head started pounding and you became dizzy. You grabbed your head, attempting to balance it. A sudden urge to cry hit you and tears filled your eyes. You fell to the ground, unable to keep anything straight. What is going on? You couldn’t figure out where you are or why you’re here.

You shot up from your bed, wearing a coat of sweat, panting and gasping for breath as your heart pounded in your chest. You pulled your legs into your chest as you collected your bearings and reality crept in. You hugged your legs and started to cry, letting all your emotions escape through your tears. Your throat was dry and aching, so you got up to get a drink. You went to the bathroom and flipped on the switch. Looking in the mirror, you saw how dreadful you looked. Covered in sweat, hair matted to your face and deep purple circles under your eyes. You sighed as tears started brimming again. You grabbed a cloth and wetted it to wipe away the sweat on your neck and face, bringing a cold sensation to your skin. You walked through the other door that led to the sitting room and went to the kitchen and got a drink.

Sipping at the glass, you leaned your back against the counter, shivering as the cold marble touched your bare back. Your tank top had ridden up a little above your underwear. You looked at the table and the stupid arm sling that laid a top it, taunting you. Why you left it to lay there, you couldn’t find a reason. Maybe to keep him close somehow. Or maybe to remind you how stupid you were for letting him in. You set the empty cup in the sink and went back to your room, laying down but wide awake. It’d been a month since that night, when you and Mitch fucked. That’s all it was. Just fucking. 

———

You had woken up the next morning to an empty bed. You had slept in later than usual, so you just assumed that Mitch didn’t want to wake you when you left for training that morning. After some breakfast, you drove down to the compound to start your day. You couldn’t help but buzz after the amazing sex you had. There was a glow that radiated off of you and Stan noticed. “What the fuck are you smiling about?”

“Nothing. Just looking forward to a good day.” You beamed and smiled, making Stan look nauseous. You were looking forward to the day though—you couldn’t wait to see Mitch. You weren’t sure what you both were and what the future was going to be, but you knew that what happened the night before was special. It was more than just sex, you connected on a whole other level that you didn’t know existed. 

“Well keep that shit to yourself.” Stan rolled his eyes, annoyed by your perkiness. “By the way, can you bring up Mitch’s file from your office?”

“Sure.” You assumed he wanted to see the records from the hospital to know what the x-ray said. You went and grabbed the file and brought it back up. Stan thanked you when you handed it over and then opened it, and grabbed a couple sheets at a time, running them through the shredder.

Your entire body tensed and became numb. Your heart dropped into your stomach and your vision was blurred by salty tears. You held your hands, digging your nails in the palms of them. A pain surged there, signaling that you had broken the skin. The only reason Stan would have to shred Mitch’s file is that he had graduated from the program and been sent out on a mission. You felt like you were going to pass out as the room went dizzy, but somehow kept your balance as you made your way out of the office and down to your own. You closed the door behind you. As soon as it shut, the clicking noise gave you permission to lose all composure. You slid down to the floor as you gasped for breath and tears streaming down your eyes. Silent screams escaped your lips and you started trembling. You were having a panic attack. Your brain screamed for your body to listen and pull it together, but it had lost all control over your nervous system. You were in shock and could do nothing but ride out the episode.

Your breathing finally slowed and the tears stopped, but every emotion had escaped through your tears leaving you empty and hollow. Some people may think your response to Mitch leaving after hardly knowing him as an overreaction, but it was about more than him. He left. He left you like your mother, your friends, James, and...your father. He left just like your father did, time after time. Everyone always fucking leaves. Once a recruit graduates, they have no reason to return to the compound. They are free to live elsewhere as long as they were accessible to Irene and Stan. He must have known he had a mission and that he was leaving. So did he fuck you because of that? He was leaving anyways, so what did he have to lose? Was everything he said...everything he did just some bullshit to get in your pants? Obviously, since he left you there without saying a word. If you care about someone, you don’t just make love to them and leave. But you can fuck them and leave. That’s all it was. Just fucking.

The last month had dragged on, but you paid no mind to it. Everything blended together as you went through the ebb and flow of days. You did what was required of you, nothing more and nothing less. You weren’t very sociable before, but now you kept to yourself even more. Stan hardly saw you and took notice of the odd change in behavior. He has yet to say anything though, incapable of conversing about anything related to emotions and feelings. He’s kept his distance and you couldn’t complain. Sleep has been lost to you, haunted by nightmares of your father and other dreams that made no sense or were forgotten when consciousness arose.

The sun started to peek over the horizon and illuminated your room as you laid sprawled on the bed, position unchanged. You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath and then sat up to get ready to start another mindless day in the long string mindless days. You passed that stupid fucking sling on the way out, but stopped and grabbed it. It had been sitting there, unmoved for the last month and you’ve had enough of the fucking thing. Mitch had left it in your car and it was the only thing you had to prove he ever existed. Well a month is long enough. It’s time to leave him the same fucking way he left you. Goddamn it, this whole fucking place reminded you of him. You threw the sling in the garbage and decided it was time to move on from more than just the fucking bastard.

You marched into Stan’s office and plopped down into the chair opposite him with his desk between you. He looked up, terrified and surprised by the fire burning in you. He just stared blankly, unsure how to approach the situation. Annoyed by his lack of words, you finally started the conversation. “I’m quitting.” If he was shocked before, now it looked like he was going to have a fucking heart attack.

“You fucking what?” He raised his brows and was having trouble comprehending your words.

You were over all of this fucking bullshit. Stan, Mitch, Irene, Orion, the cabin, the secrecy, just all of it. You held no reservations as anger and spite latched onto each word. “I. Fucking. Quit.” Stan had never seen you like this before, like a force of nature and it scared him. Not because he feared you, but because he didn’t know how to handle it. He gulped and stared at you, unable to find words which was a first, so he managed the one word he knew best.

“Fuck.”

———

_ One year later… _

“So are you going out with everybody tonight?” Daniel always liked to make conversation at the most awkward times.

“No.” You responded to him through the thin curtain separating you. He kept pestering you with questions, but you tried to focus on the wound you were examining on the patient in front of you. After you left Orion, you got a job in the ER and found an apartment in the city. You’d been there roughly a year and Daniel was the only friend you made. And the term friend is used loosely. It was more that he would never leave you alone, so you tolerated him. He was nice and seemed like a good guy, but you were so used to being on your own that having a life outside of your job seemed unusual.

Daniel pushed the curtain open, revealing a face of disapproval and an annoyed patient. “What do you mean no?” You turned around to face him, rolling your eyes. He would always try and invite you to group activities, but you always answered and he always responded the same way.

“I mean no. Do you want to what it in different language?” His eyes threw darts at you, but you were unfazed. Sarcasm became your armor, but you typically came off as more of an asshole than anything. You turned back around to work on your patient. “Don’t you have a patient to help?” The woman hummed in agreement and Daniel closed the curtain to help her, but that didn’t stop him from talking. It never did.

“Why do you always say no? Don’t you want to go out? Have a good time? Make some friends?”

“Why would I need friends when I have you?” You heard him scoff through the fabric wall and chuckled a little to yourself too. He continued his argument well after you both finished helping your patients, but as usual, he finally conceded. You were unbreakable.

If you were perfectly honest, you kind of liked Dan, but you would never let him past your outer shell. He rose a smile out of you from time to time and made work more bearable. He’d grown on you over the last couple months. When your shift ended and you were grabbing your things out of your locker, he cornered you and asked one last time. This time he was more serious, and you really appreciated him worrying about you, but you would never tell him that. He accepted your refusal and left with the group of other doctors and nurses leaving for the night.

When you got back to your apartment, you hadn’t realized how exhausted you actually were. It hit you like a train and all you could think about was passing out on the couch. The sixteen hour shifts were catching up with you -- maybe you should stop picking up so many extra hours. That was the point though, to work yourself down to exhaustion so that you were distracted when awake and then could actually sleep through the night. You weren’t necessarily having nightmares, but you’d still wake up in the middle of the night in cold sweats. You hopped in the shower to wash away the day and then put on a t-shirt. Pants are overrated.

You sat down on the couch and turned on the tv, watching a mindless sitcom to relax while sipping on your glass of wine. This tended to be the ritual, coming home to an empty apartment and escaping reality until sleep crept in. After your second glass you drifted off, cuddled under a blanket.

_ BANG! BANG! BANG! _

The loud thudding startled you out of your slumber. The TV was still on, but you paid it no mind as you attempted to get comfortable and fall back asleep. There it was again, the loud noise that you had thought you heard, but it sounded like it was coming from your door. You got up and peeked out the peephole, but there was no one there, must have been someone knocking on another door. You went back to the were the couch was and turned off the TV, then started for your bedroom. You stopped in your tracks when you heard the banging for a third time, but you were positive it was coming from your door. Now your heart was racing and a nervous sweat broke out on your forehead. You slowly inched towards the door. You hesitantly wrapped your fingers around the brass knob, unlocking it with the other hand. You turned it and cracked the door open.

Your nostrils were flooded with the smell of blood, so you swung the door open, your doctor instincts kicking in. You noticed the blood on the door from where the person had been knocking, and then saw the man hunched over and holding his stomach in front of you. “Oh my God! Are you okay? What’s your name?” You leaned over and grabbed his arms. The man raised his head and your heart stopped. His face was caked in blood and dirt. His lip was split and his teeth were tinted red. There was a cut on the bridge of his nose and a gash over his left eye which was beginning to swell. He was almost unrecognizable, but you would know those eyes anywhere. You froze, and tears swelled in your eyes, making the mans face blurry. Where you would normally be composed and kick into gear, your hands started shaking and you felt like you couldn’t breath. Tears left trails down your cheeks and all you could muster was a whisper.

“Mitch…?”


	8. Chapter 8

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.” You just watched as the man rushed into your apartment and fell on the couch. You ran to him and fell to your knees, leaning over his legs. “Mitch…” you breathed, “what the hell happened to you?” He threw his head back and groaned as he writhed in pain. He looked like he was nodding in and out of consciousness. You searched him over, trying to figure out what happened, your brain still processing what was unfolding in front of you. You watched him, in his atrocious state and couldn’t hold back the tears. Something in you knew he was dying and just like that something clicked. You ran to your room and grabbed your medical bag. He was passed out again when you got back.

“Mitch! I need you to stay awake buddy. Stay with me, okay?” He opened his eyes and groaned as you moved his hands. Blood pooled at the opening. He must have been shot. It was in his abdomen and could have hit something vital, but that wasn’t your main concern right now. You needed to stop the bleeding. You rolled him over slightly, he winced at the movement, and saw that there was no exit wound. “Dammit.” You whispered under your breath. “I need to get the bullet out.” Mitch’s eyes rolled back into his head, completely unaware of your words. “Fuck.” You ran to get some towels and a bottle of gin you had. You poured the alcohol over the pliers and your hands, then you poured a bunch into his wound. Mitch let out a shout from what must have stung like a bitch.

“Mitch, this is gonna hurt.” He was more aware now, and he glared at you with a look that said  _ ‘just get it over with _ ’. You dug the pliers into the hole and Mitch screamed, making your skin crawl, that was a sound you never wanted to hear from him. He gritted his teeth and tears left trails on his bloodied face as you moved the tool around trying to get a good grip on the bullet. “Almost got it!” You found the little bastard and got a good grip, but you hesitated for a second as fear crept in. What if the bullet hit a vital organ? Or nicked an artery? You pulled it out with all your strength and it made a popping noise. “Got it.”

Mitch’s face went white and his eyes rolled again as his head fell back. “Shit. Shit. Shit.” The blood started pooling at a rapid pace from the bullet hole. You grabbed the towel and held it to his side, leaning in and putting your entire body weight onto it. “Please Mitch. Not now. I swear to God. If you just show up at my door like this and then die, I’m gonna fucking kill you.” You started crying again, unsure that you ever really stopped as you looked at his face. Even with all the blood and dirt, he was vulnerable and weak. His lips were slightly parted and his muscles relaxed. It reminded you of when you watched him sleeping over a year ago. “Mitch...please.” You mumbled through tears, tasting the bitter salt of them on your lips. You looked down and saw the towel was soaked in blood, so you grabbed another one that was next to you and added it to the wound. You used your free hand to check his pulse on his neck and a sigh of relief left your lips when you felt it. It was weak and thready, but it was there and with every thump against your fingers your body relaxed a little more.

After a few more minutes, you checked the wound and it looked like the bleeding had slowed significantly. You sniffed and wiped your eyes with your arm since your hands were covered in blood. You grabbed the suturing kit from your bag to sew up the wound. You tried to thread the needle, but your hands wouldn’t stop shaking. You tried again and again. You let out a grunt of frustration, only making your next attempt even more unsuccessful. You looked at his face, closed your eyes and took in a deep breath. When you opened them, you concentrated and threaded it through. You hastily took the skin on his stomach and squeezed the open flesh back together. Weaving the needle in and out, you closed the hole and then found some antiseptic in your bag and covered the damaged skin. You covered it with gauze, taping it to his body, then fell back onto your ass from your knees. You sighed and groaned, hoping the worst of it was over. You could hear Mitch breathing and just watched his chest rise and fall, soothing your own internal wounds.

This was the man who held you in the field. This was the man who made your body a raging sea. He was the one who made you smile and laugh just from his own contagious grin. He was the man who looked into your eyes when you lost himself in you, giving you the world. You caught yourself smiling, remembering everything you had pushed so far down and tried so hard to forget. It was like you were experiencing everything all over again, for the first time. You had created an image of him being this selfish monster who used you, that you forgot everything else. You reminded yourself how he did all those things, and then left without saying a word. The smile melted away and you got up and went to the bathroom. You washed your hands, the sink filling with red. You kept scrubbing and scrubbing, but it felt like the blood wouldn’t come off. You started crying again, but because everything was sinking in. Once your hands were clean, you went to your room and changed your shirt and put on some sweatpants. Might as well throw this one away since it was soaked in blood.

You cleaned the rest of his wounds on his face, bandaging them. You peeled his shirt off his body, covered in bruises. Some of them were fresh, blues and purples, but others were old with shades of browns and yellows. What did Irene and Stan have him doing? You knew they were working for the CIA, but there was no reason he should be this beaten up. You cleaned the other scrapes and cuts over his torso and wiped away the blood. The worst of them was the gunshot wound, so it didn’t take very long. Unfortunately, you didn’t own any men’s clothing, so Mitch would have to stay shirtless for the time being. His pants were covered in dried blood too, but he didn’t seem to be wounded on his legs so you left them on. Your couch was already ruined anyways. You lifted his legs onto the couch and covered him in the blanket, leaving him to rest.

Now to deal with the aftermath. You went to your door and opened it again. There was blood and handprints on the front and a pool of dried blood on the floor where he had been standing. Thankfully the floor wasn’t carpet. You cleaned both of those places up so that no one would think you were murder if they walked by. Then you realized no one had done anything when they heard Mitch screaming. Well, that’s concerning. Whatever. You looked at the clock and it was almost 4AM, so after checking on him one last time, you went to your room and passed out the second your head hit your pillow.

When you woke up the next morning, the events of the night all seemed like a vague memory or distant dream. You looked at your hands and saw the blood you couldn’t get out from under your fingernails and groaned. Nope, it was real. That really happened. You got up and went to go check on your patient. As you walked out of the room, you yawned and stretched but stopped in the middle as you stared at an empty couch. “What the fuck? Again?” Your arms fell to your sides as you rolled your eyes. A groan came from the bathroom and you noticed the door was closed. You went over and opened it. Mitch was standing there, peeling off the bandage where he had been shot. “What the fuck are you doing?” He turned to look at you and appeared just as surprised as you were. You ran over and looked at the wound since it was exposed anyways. It looked good, so you put the bandage back on. “It was a lot of work putting you back together Rapp. Don’t mess with it.” He seemed unamused as he looked down at you. His face and body were covered in bruises and his body looked so broken. At least he had some color back to his skin and wasn’t ghostly anymore. 

“You need to lay down. You shouldn’t be up.” He groaned as you took his arm and guided him back to the couch. It was more out of annoyance than pain. He sat down reluctantly and gave you an annoyed glance. At least you know he didn’t have a head injury, asshole. You went and got a glass of water and handed him a handful of pills. “Take these.” He questioned you, hesitant to take them. “Goddamn it. They’re so your wounds don’t get infected and for the pain.” He gave you a soft smile and took them, taking them down with a big gulp of water. He finished the glass in one drink and you took it and went back to the kitchen.

“Thank you.” His voice croaked and sounded like it had been rubbed down by sandpaper. It gave you a chill. You started walking again, ignoring him because you were afraid if you looked at him in that moment you’d cry again. You had always seen Mitch as this strong, mighty, unbreakable thing, but seeing him like this...weak and broken made you fall apart. After a couple minutes to yourself, you went back into the room and sat on the table across from Mitch.

“Why are you here? How—how did you even know where to find me?” He laughed unintentionally and grabbed his side in pain from the motion. 

“I kept tabs.” For some reason, that answer set a fire of rage in you that you couldn’t contain. This man may have just been beaten to a pulp and shot, almost dying on your couch, but Goddamn it if you weren’t going to give him a piece of your mind.

“TABS? YOU KEPT FUCKING TABS?!” Mitch leaned back, trying to sink into the couch. He had never seen you like this before. The same thought that Stan had also came to Mitch—a force of nature. “What gives you the fucking right? You tell me about Katrina, fuck me, and then disappear.” He winced when you said her name, but then looked to his feet at the mention of him leaving you. “It’s been over a year and I haven’t heard a fucking word from you. For all I know, you could have been dead! You don’t get to act like I was special and then leave me, feeling like I was trash to come find me when you need me to save your fucking ass.” He looked back up and smiled, only stirring the fury inside you more. You screamed and turned away, pretty sure if you kept looking at that shit-eating grin you’d put a bullet him yourself.

“I couldn’t go to a hospital.” You turned back around and his face was blank now.

“Why not? You’re a secret agent or whatever you are, but they would just check you in as a John Doe.” He furrowed his brows and looked down, like he was holding something back. Typical, he was always holding something back. Keeping secrets was his specialty.

“Look, the less you know the better. I honestly didn’t mean to come here. I just needed help and from the state I was in, my survival instincts kicked in.” You glared at him as if he had just said the stupidest shit in the world, which to you he had. “I should go.” He started getting up and winced, falling back onto the couch just as you reached him. Goddamn it you missed his warmth, his skin against your fingertips felt like a fire in your nerves.

“No. You need to rest. You were fucking shot, shitstick.” He gave you a quizzical look through the pain.

“Did you just call me a shitstick?” You just rolled your eyes. “I need to go, Y/N.” He looked at you with those big honey eyes, bringing his hand to your cheek. For a split second, he had you in a trance but you snapped out of it and swatted his hand away, standing up straight.

“You don’t get to waltz in here, have me fix you up, and the fucking leave again.” You crossed your arms and jutted your jaw out. All he did was laugh again, holding his side.

“I missed you.” He smiled as he spoke and you really wasn’t helping with how upset you were. How dare he? He had no right to say that shit to you? You fucking missed me? Bull-fucking-shit.

“Actually, now that I think about, maybe you should leave.” You turned around and went to your room as he raised an eyebrow, smiling and shaking his head. You left the door open so that you could see him, but he just laid his head back on the couch and didn’t get up to leave. As much as you wanted him to go, you wanted him to stay just as much. Just when you sat down, there was a knock at the door. Mitch shot his head up and looked at you. His face was intense and serious, fear in his eyes. It sent a chill down your spine and made your blood go cold. Something was wrong, and Mitch shouldn’t be here. It was what he was trying to tell you, but your stupid ass wouldn’t listen. You jumped up and ran over to him. He grabbed your arms to face him.

“They’re here for me, okay?” All you did was nod. “You can’t tell them I was here. Not to protect me, but to protect yourself.” He tucked a strand of hair behind your hair as he smiled and kissed your forehead. Just like that, all your pain, hatred and anger melted away in an instant. He pulled away and it left you hollow, missing his touch. He went to the window and climbed out, closing it behind him. You covered up the couch with a blanket, and then opened the door just as they knocked for a third time. Well fuck me. The long black haired woman stood in front of you, wearing her familiar face of disapproval and annoyance.

“Hello, Y/N. May I come in?” You just nodded and she passed by you, entering the apartment.

“What can I do for you Irene?” She analyzed the room, looking at everything. She turned to you and clasped her hands.

“I was just checking in to see how you—”

“Bullshit.” She squinted her eyes, not appreciating your bluntness right that fact you cut her off. “Why are you here?” What could she possibly want? You haven’t heard from her since the day you left, so why would she come here now? Of all days too, the same day Mitch showed up at your door.

“I’m here about Mitch.” You tensed at his name. Why is she here for him? Why did he have to go if he knew it was her? Why would she be after him and how come it made him so afraid?

“Mitch? Why? I haven’t seen him since his last day at the compound.” You swallowed the lump in your throat and sweat started to accumulate on the back of your neck, causing you to rub the spot.

“Well, we believe he’s in the area. He needs our help, so if you see him or hear from him you should call me.” 

“I haven’t seen him, but if I do, sure.” She looked you over, examining you and deciding if she believed you or not. She relaxed and nodded. She told you that it was nice to see you and you agreed despite feeling the opposite and then she left. 

Now what? Irene is gone and Mitch is gone, but here you are stuck in the fucking middle. You went over to the window, unsure what you were even looking for. You opened it and peeked your head out. The fire escape was empty and Mitch was gone. Something was going on and you felt it in your gut, something bad. How could you help him? Why did you feel like you needed to? You had no way to find him or contact him, but then it occurred that he said he had been keeping tabs. That means he was watching you. Now you just needed to find a way to get his attention.


	9. Chapter 9

_ Seven, eight, nine _ . Mitch had his back to the wall as bullets flew towards him from around the corner.  _ Ten, eleven, twelve. _ The man shooting at him was using a Glock 19, which he knew held 15 rounds.  _ Thirteen, fourteen. _ He hunkered down to wait until the assailant ran out of ammo and needed to reload. Mitch was too smart to waste his ammo on the man when he knew he couldn’t get a good shot.  _ Fifteen _ . Now was his chance. As soon as the shot was fired, he rounded the corner, his Glock 17 already aimed. He squeezed the trigger twice, hitting the man perfectly between the eyes and in his heart. Keeping the gun up, he swept the room for any other threats. He ran through the doors that the dead man was guarding and hugged the walls as he made his way down the corridor. A man walked through a door right before he passed it, but Mitch shot him in the temple before he could register his presence there.

He reached the end of the hallway and found the double doors that led to the office of the man he had been sent to kill. He leaned against the door and could hear an old gruff voice yelling at someone to protect him. The sound of multiple guns being cocked that sounded like automatic rifles were muffled through the wood. Those would pose a problem if he stormed in and he knew they most likely had their guns trained on the doors, waiting for him to breach them. He scrunched his nose, annoyed at this and the fact that he didn’t know how many men were on the other side. He let his clip slip out and he counted how many rounds he had left,  _ eight. _ Hopefully that would be enough. He pushed the clip back into its place and cocked the gun, then shoved it into his waistband at the small of his back. He went back a couple feet to where he shot the man in the temple. He searched his body and found a knife that he shoved in his boot. He picked the man up and dragged him to the door where the office was. He lifted him up so that he was shielding his body and then shot off the handle of the door.  _ seven _ . He heard a woman scream from the other side of the door from the gunshot as he kicked the door open and shrunk behind the lifeless body.

Bullets instantly flew across the room as the door flung open. The men weren’t specifically aiming at him, but in his general direction as they unloaded their clips, bullets flying past Mitch and some hitting the corpse he was holding. It was pointless to count their rounds since they were firing them without fault. When he heard the click of the empty barrels, he threw the body to the side and immediately saw the two men in front of him. He shot the one to his right through the eye,  _ six _ , and then aimed for the head of the man to his left,  _ five, _ but he jumped out of the way just before the bullet pierced his skull. He flew to his left on the floor and slid a couple inches as he pulled a pistol from his waistband. Mitch jumped to his right and pulled the body on top of himself before the man got off the first shot. He fired six times and then Mitch peeked around the dead man's shoulder and shot in the other man's general direction,  _ four _ . He got him in the shoulder and heard his screams when the bullet tore through his muscle. He pushed the body off as the man was distracted by the pain and shot him in the head,  _ three _ , his shouts instantly silenced. He stood to his feet and swept the room. A woman was crying in the corner and started screaming when he pointed his gun at her. She was no threat, just a prostitute, so he turned his gun to face the target. He was an old fat man that was made of money. He sat in a chair at his desk and Mitch walked around it and pushed him away from it with his foot, keeping the barrel of the gun trained at the man’s nose.

“Please! Please! Do you want money? I have money!” The man pleaded with him, his hands raised in surrender. He searched Mitch’s face for falter or some semblance of humanity, but he found none. He stared at the criminal with a blank face, void of any conscience or morality. He terrified the man and knew he was here to kill him. The man continued to plead, but he was cut off by the sound of a bullet leaving the chamber, t _ wo, one _ . Both shots between the eyes, leaving a hole about the size of a quarter in his skull. He turned and saw the woman cowering as he shoved the empty glock into his waistband behind him, but ignored her as he left before backup or the police could arrive.

Mitch moved through the shadows of the night as he made his way back to the safe-house, changing routes to make sure he wasn’t being followed. After about an hour of going in circles, he deemed it safe and headed back but when he reached the door his senses lit up and the hair raised on the back of his neck. He went to grab his gun, but remembered it was empty, so he kneeled down slowly and slid the knife out of his boot. If the person inside had a gun, they would aim for his chest, so he stayed low, squatting so that the shooter wouldn’t expect it. He reached up and slowly turned the knob, then flung the door open and rolled forward into the room. The man inside jumped to his feet and pulled a gun but was well trained and immediately aimed it down at Mitch. He was fast, but Mitch was faster as he threw the knife up to the mans chest. The man with the gun had good reflexes so he jumped to the side, barely escaping its impact. “What the fuck Mitch?”

Mitch looked up with wide eyes surprised to see his handler, Stan Hurley. He stood up and rolled his eyes as he threw the gun on the bed in front of him. “What do you want?” He spat out, paying no mind to the man as he took the gun apart to dispose of later and make it less traceable.

“I have a mission for you.” Mitch stopped what he was doing and looked at the older man without moving his head. He gave him questioning eyebrows. It was unusual for Stan to show up to a safe house and even more unusual for him to be given two missions at the same time.

“Another mission? I haven’t finished this one yet.”

“Is he dead?” Stan was blunt and annoyed.

“Yes.”

“Then it’s finished.” Mitch opened his mouth to respond but was cut off before sound left his lips. “His name is Rinaldo Askin.” Mitch returned to gathering his stuff and cleaning the place down while Stan went on. “He’s a mobster in Philadelphia.” Mitch froze again, his back facing Stan which he was thankful for. That’s where Y/N had been living for the past year. He had been keeping tabs on her since the day he left her alone in that bed, something that had come to be one of his very few regrets. “He’s the worst of the worst. Real piece of shit if you know what I mean.” Mitch turned around and nodded in agreement as he walked over to Stan. He threw the manila folder on the bed that sat between the two of them and Mitch leaned over to pick it up. As he skimmed through it, he sat down on the bed. “And Mitch, this one’s off the books.”

Mitch looked up at Stan, slightly amused, “They’re all off the books.” He shot him a crooked smile that he knew would piss Stan off. He shot darts at Mitch for his snarky comment, but otherwise ignored it.

“It’s a twelve hour train ride to Philly and this needs to be done in the next 48. So get your shit together. Here, take this.” He handed him what looked like a locker key and then marched out of the safe-house and left Mitch to mull over the file that told him of the man’s crimes, known associates, enemies, places of operation, and any other intel that had been accumulated and deemed important. After he memorized and learned everything he could, he tossed it in a metal trash bin and threw in a match. He watched as the paper became engulfed in the flames and danced against the metal.

He took a quick shower and got dressed, then left after he finished wiping down the rest of the room. He disposed of each part of the Glock 17 in different places as he made his way to the train station. He found the locker number that matched the key and found a small black duffel bag. He unzipped it and found another glock, two clips, a drivers license, and some cash. He zipped it back up, and pulled it out, slinging it over his shoulder. He wasted no time getting a ticket and boarding the next available train. He didn’t like that he had such a small time frame to do the job, but he would get it done nonetheless.

He found his seat and sat down, figuring he would try to sleep for at least a couple hours before he arrived. He couldn’t remember the last time he actually slept well. Irene and Stan had him running around on jobs non-stop for the last year, not that he was complaining. He had nothing outside of this life and needed the distraction. This was what he was good at, killing the scum of the earth and if he was completely honest, he liked it too. The feeling of taking a life, having that power and playing God was like a drug. The rush of the hunt and then the release of the kill. He wasn’t a sociopath, but when it came to killing these men, he felt no remorse.

Mitch found his mind running a million miles a minute, unable to settle and find a moment of sleep. He gave up and let his thoughts consume him. He thought about Y/N and how it had been four months since he last saw her. She had gotten a job at a hospital in the city as an ER doctor, he watched her as she crossed the parking lot holding a coffee, keeping his eyes locked on her until she vanished into the building. He smiled as he took in her beauty, remembering her scent and the taste of her lips. He caught himself biting his bottom lip and a heat rising in him. He threw the thoughts from his mind, feeling guilty about it all.

Stan had told him he was being sent on his first mission, and he thought nothing of it. He called down to Y/N and had her come meet the two of them to tell her that he needed to be taken to a hospital for an x-ray. She seemed to be pissed and it amused him. She was different and filled him with curiosity. He had never spoken to her before the last 24 hours, but he learned to read her like a book that he had committed to memory. She bothered him, but in a good way, something about her that he couldn’t figure out and it nagged at him. During their trip, he purposefully bugged her, knowing he was getting under her skin. For some reason, when he was with her he felt whole and a burning fire in him. Before her and when she wasn’t around he held nothing but anger, contemptment, and a constant lingering of agony. She was like a beacon of light that washed out the darkness in his soul. He had his fun with her and they had good moments too, but when she woke up screaming and jumped out of the car, that’s when it changed. He had no plans of following through on his feelings that he chalked up to lust and hormones, but when he found her in the field, nothing but a mess all he could see was her beauty behind all her pain.

He could tell she was hurting, and that made him hurt too. He hated that her pain wasn’t someone he could kill to rid her of the torment. In that moment, all he could do was hold her and give her what he so desperately craved himself but never received. This woman put him on edge and saw parts of him that others couldn’t, but now he saw her and wanted nothing more than to fix it. While he had been attempting to get under her skin, she had wormed her way under his, and now he couldn’t deny it. She didn’t seem to want to talk about what was wrong and he could only respect that, having his own crosses to bear. He felt safe with her, so for the first time he opened to someone; he opened up to her. Others had known what happened to him from reports and his files, but he had never told a soul what happened from his own lips. What he went through, what he saw.

When he bared his heart, it cemented a connection to her that he knew he would always have. He no longer had a desire to annoy or pester her but a longing for her; to know and understand her. That’s when it sunk in, he was leaving in the morning. There was no point in beginning something that wouldn’t have a chance to start, but both of them were unaware it already had⎯the moment they met everything had been set into motion, everything that had been, that was, and had yet to be. He had no intention of pursuing it, but then she offered him to come inside. His head and instincts all screamed to turn around and keep walking, but his heart cried for him to go to her. He was tired of following his rules and living with the darkness, so he denied all his inclinations and went inside towards the light.

The air was thick around them, tensions high after everything that had occurred over the last 24 hours. He found himself centimeters away from her lips on the couch, his skin on fire and begging for her touch to release the anxiety in his muscles. He could feel her breath ghost across his lips, the scent of beer and peppermint. She shot up from the couch and ran to her room, leaving him yearning for her warmth but he knew it was for the best. That damn girl just had to come back in, wearing those short shorts and the tank top that clung to her breasts. He used all of his strength to stave off his primitive impulses, but he couldn't take it. There was a fire raging in him that couldn’t be contained. When they connected, it was lust and desire at first, but it turned into something else; something between lust and love, something both of them never saw coming, something he knew would either drive them or destroy them.

After she fell asleep, it took everything in him to force himself out of that bed and away from her warmth. He always knew this moment was coming, but he relished in the time he had in between. Hopefully she would understand, move on and not waste her time on a lost soul like his. It was for the best because he could never give her what she needed. This road he had set himself on wasn’t going to lead to a happy ending and that’s all this woman deserved. He was a broken man, parts of him missing and she didn’t need that chaos in her life. He would never admit it to anyone and didn’t know it himself, but leaving her hurt almost as much as watching Katrina die. He had no intention of ever seeing her again, never touching her, kissing her...loving her.

Mitch finally found sleep and got six hours, giving him two before he arrived in the city. He found another file in the duffel bag and went over everything in it, telling him the location of the safe house as well as Askin’s itinerary for the next two days. When the train arrived, he took multiple taxis and then walked the rest of the distance to the safe house. He prepared for the mission, wearing dark jeans and a black tshirt so that he could easily go unseen. Before he headed to where Askin would be, he stopped by the hospital to check in on Y/N. The sun was starting to set and he could see her working in the ER through a large window. She was helping a patient and doing what she did best. He loved to see her in her element, it reminded him of when she would examine him and help with any injuries he got from training. She looked so tired though, yes physically but when he saw her eyes she looked exhausted from life. His smile melted away and he felt guilt, hoping he wasn’t the cause of this. He disappeared into the shadows and left to kill Rinaldo Askin.

When he arrived at Askin’s house, he did a sweep of the perimeter and found everything in the report he had been given to be accurate. There were six guards patrolling the grounds with pistols. If he timed it right, he would easily be able to slip past them and enter the house without being seen. According to what he read, the house was unguarded and empty with the exception of Askin, his wife, and two children. As long as he used the silencer, he could be in and out before anyone noticed. He memorized the patterns of the guards and found his opening, making his way to the back of the house to an entrance that gave access to a basement. The door was locked, but Mitch had a lock pick and managed to get the door open quickly. He slipped in, hidden by the lack of light. He pulled the glock from his waistband and switched off the safety, then proceeded to sweep the room.

He moved through the house silently and proficiently, clearing the basement and then the first floor. He climbed the stairs two at a time, constantly on high alert. When he reached the landing, he glided across the floor in large strides. He past an ajar door and peeked in, revealing the bedroom of a young boy that he remembered to be six years old. He passed a closed door that was painted pink which he assumed to be the bedroom of Askin’s daughter who was eight years old. He reached the end of the hallway and found an open door. Rounding the corner, he leaned through the door frame, peering into the large room. Askin was lying in his large bed with his wife, roughly eight feet from where Mitch stood. He took three large strides towards the foot of the bed and held the silenced gun up to aim at the man. He squeezed the trigger three times, hitting his body twice and his head once. It was hard to aim accurately with him under the comforter, so Mitch took the extra two shots in case.

He needed conformation of the kill, so he moved towards the side of the bed where the man slept. The closer he got, the more something didn’t feel right and the hairs on his arms stuck up like something in the air had changed. That’s when he could smell it, the scent of iron...of blood and lots of it; more than what could come from the three bullets he put into the man. He rolled the covers up and saw the sheets soaked in red, so he threw the rest of them off the bodies. Askin and his wife laid in their bed, lifeless and drenched in enough blood for two people who had bled out. The man looked like he had been shot at least seven times minus the three Mitch had given him. His wife had been shot four times, both of them receiving them in the chest and one each in the head.

A feeling arose in Mitch’s stomach, nothing he couldn’t handle but a sense of uneasiness. He didn’t like surprises or when plans had to change. He went to the corner of the room and tried to think of an explanation. Askin had plenty of enemies, but this was professional and resembled the same work that Mitch would leave behind. Someone had put a hit out on him, they must have. Mitch tensed as he heard heavy footsteps coming up the stairs, and he sprung into action. He hadn’t prepared for this, so he only had the one clip of seventeen rounds. He used three on Askin leaving him with fourteen. There was no need for the silencer at this point since they knew he was there, so he removed it since it would give him better accuracy. He ran over to the door and shutting and locking it, then ran over to the side of the bed facing away from the wall.  _ Shit shit shit. _

“They’re dead! Check on Askin and his wife!” He heard muffled shouts from the hall, but was confused by what they said. Who’s dead? Mitch hadn’t killed anyone else. The children. Horror grew on his face. They were the only other ones in the house. Mitch may have been a ruthless killer, but only of those who deserved it. What soulless bastard killed children?

“The door is locked!”

“Then break it down!” It sounded like there were at least five men outside the door by the number of footsteps. If they were the guards from outside they would only have their pistols which was a relief, but five was a lot even for Mitch. The sounds of someone ramming into the door echoed through the silent room. Mitch tightened the grip of his gun as he looked around for a better option. He faced a wall that was made entirely of glass that gave a perfect view of the grounds, but it was at least a twelve foot drop. He could make that, but not without serious injury and shattering the glass, alerting everyone of his location. It was looking like his best option was to face the men, but it was still a shitty option.

The man broke the door open and saw the bodies covered in blood, shouting back to the others that they were dead too. Mitch shot off a single bullet in his direction,  _ thirteen _ , and they did exactly what he wanted them to do. They all retreated to the hallway except for the first one who entered. He had fallen to the ground, Mitch had shot him in the leg which the man shouted to the other men. Mitch shifted his body which ended up being a bad idea since the man on the floor saw his shadow and yelled to the others of his location. Two others walked in and started shooting from the other side of the bed along with the man on the floor. Most of the bullets hit the mattress, but Mitch still laid down on his stomach cowering under it. The three of them ran out of bullets and started reloading when the other two men entered and started emptying their clips as well. When they stopped, Mitch could see the man on the floor from under the bed, he aimed and shot him in the head,  _ twelve _ . The other four men started shouting, saying they were going to rush him, assuming there was just one guy. This was it, his only other option is out the window. Mitch shot two of the men in their legs,  _ eleven, ten _ , and then in the commotion shot the glass,  _ nine _ . The window didn’t shatter, but it was cracked. The men were confused and took a minute to get it together. He jumped up and took the opportunity to shoot one of them in the head, _ eigh _ t. He ran towards the window and turned to shoot a couple more shots off as he jumped through, staggering the glass,  _ seven, six. _ As he crashed through, he heard a shot go off from one of the men and then a piercing pain in his side. Mitch landed flat on his back, letting out a loud grunt as the wind was knocked from his lungs. He was covered in cuts and gashes from the glass when he went through and bruises from the landing. Hopefully he didn’t have any internal bleeding. He grabbed his side as he coughed and tasted blood in his mouth, that’s not good. He looked at his hand and saw it covered in blood, that’s definitely not good.

He heard the sound of more men running to his location and forced himself up. He moaned from the pain that seared through every muscle in his body. He limped as fast as he could, holding his right side with his left hand and his glock in the other. Men started shooting, so he threw his arm back as he tried running, shooting off aimless shots,  _ five, four, three, two, one, click, click _ . He tossed the empty pistol on the ground and pushed himself to hightail it out of there. He kept running for at least five miles, something he could have easily done if he wasn’t in this condition but his lungs were on fire and his legs felt like they were going to give out any moment. He made it closer to the city and found an alleyway. He ran over to the side of a dumpster facing away from the road and leaned against the wall. It was hard for him to see from the blood running into his eyes from the cut above it. He wiped his face and winced as he brushed against the bruises and cuts. He looked down at his side and reached around to his back to feel for an exit wound. Nothing. He was in no shape or position to pull that thing out himself.

His legs started to become weak, so he slid down the wall keeping pressure on his wound. His thoughts were running wild. Who would have Askin and his whole family killed? His file said he had enemies, but none that were capable of that type of handywork. That was professional, surgical, and sadistic. Then is dawned on him. They weren’t the target...he was. Stan only had three rules: don’t get caught, don’t kill cops, and never kill innocents. If Mitch didn’t know about the other assassin, neither did Stan or Irene which would leave them to assume he was the one who killed all four of them and Askin’s men were witnesses to prove it. “FUCK.” Mitch shouted as another coughing fit followed. “Goddamn it.”

Mitch needed help, but going to a hospital was already dicey and now it was impossible. Orion would be on him in minutes and he needed to clear his name before they took him. He was a ghost, so they could do whatever they wanted to him, no judge or jury, no trial. Just Stan and Irene deciding his fate. They were both believers of evidence and what was in front of them, and right now everything damned him. He was still new to the game and had few contacts that would be willing to help and most of them were too far away to make it to him before he bled out. Without intending to do it, his mind drifted to Y/N. No, he can’t go to her for help. He would be dragging her into the middle of this, putting her life in danger and asking too much of her. He swore he would never see her again. This was the whole reason he had left her that morning in the first place, to keep her out of situations like this. Mitch threw his head back in pain as his adrenaline high came down and he could feel every part of his broken body. He started getting dizzy and noticed the pool of blood accumulating on the ground. He needed help now, or he was going to bleed out. Fuck, if he wants to live he has no choice. He used every last ounce of strength and will he had left and pulled himself up by clinging to the dumpster. He leaned against it, finding his balance and gasping for breath. He was only a couple blocks from where her apartment was. Hopefully she would be willing to help him, if he made it there first.


	10. Chapter 10

It had been three days since Mitch showed up at your door and things had been painfully quiet. You waited for Mitch to reach out but he had disappeared again, leaving you behind and alone. Worry crept in and you began to fear that maybe something happened like his wound got infected or his injuries were worse than you had thought, maybe Irene found him. You had to fight all your impulses and remind yourself he wasn’t your problem, not anymore. Why should you help him anyways? Maybe he had all of this coming? You knew nothing about him aside from his medical records and the story of Katrina. For all you know, he could be a psychotic killer. You’d spent enough time thinking about him and relapsing, losing all the progress you made at hardening yourself towards him so you pushed the thoughts and feelings down. Preparing for your shift, you put on your scrubs, grabbed a thermos of coffee and your bag, then headed out to the hospital.

When you got to work, Daniel was already there and ready to talk your ear off the minute you walked through the door. Some nonsense about another doctor and nurse hooking up, the usual gossip that made its way through the building. Once you were on the floor and your shift officially started, you dragged along and drank cup after cup of coffee. You had the last two days off, but felt exhausted from the constant state or anxiety that coursed through your veins since the moment Mitch walked through your door. Thankfully, it was pretty quiet and the night was going smoothly. You had an average amount of patients come though, none that were too serious and were easily treatable. Halfway through your shift, the fatigue started to become more prevalent so you decided to use your lunch break to take a nap.

“Hey Dan, I’m gonna go to the sleep rooms to try and rest. You good?”

“All good here. You look like you could use it. If I need you I know where to find you.” He smiled and waved you off. No matter how annoying he was, he was still a sweetheart and meant well. 

You made it to one of the open rooms and walked in ready to pass out, not even bothering with turning on the light. You laid down on the twin sized bed and let out a sigh as you closed your eyes and felt your muscles relax. The room was silent and you found comfort in that as you started to doze off. Your eyes sprung open and your veins turned to ice, terror consuming every atom in your body. Your immediate response was to elicit a scream, but it was held back by the large hand that clasped your mouth. A body was pressed against yours, holding you down as you tried to thrash underneath the weight.

“Shhh! They’ll hear you.” You stilled at the warmth of the voice and opened your eyes to see his brown ones staring back at you. You raised your eyebrows, questioning him and he slowly released his grasp over your lips.

“What the fuck Mitch?” You whisper-shouted at him. He looked unamused as he looked to the door, ignoring your accusatory tone. His features were serious and concentrated. He looked back down at you, his nose brushing against yours. He must have realized how close you both were because his entire body changed and became more relaxed. He tilted his head to the side and curled up the corner of his lips with sympathetic eyes. It looked as though he felt remorseful and apologetic. “Mitch…” You looked down, bringing attention to the fact that he was still lying on top of you.

“Oh shit. Yeah, sorry.” He jumped up and was timid, contrasting his previous state of control and confidence. He reached behind and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked to his feet.

“What are you doing here?” You were too tired and pissed to be anything but blunt. This asshole was really starting to get on your last nerve. His stature changed again, back to a sober face.

“We have to leave. It’s not safe here.”

“Not safe here—Mitch, what are you talking about?” You were irritated and didn’t even bother hiding it. Mitch took notice and peaked an eyebrow like your response was puzzling to him. He came back over to you where you were now, sitting on the edge of the bed, and he kneeled in front of you taking your hands in his. He looked up to you with worrisome eyes as he curled in his lips.

“I tried. I tried so hard to keep you out of this, but somehow they found out about you, Y/N. I got you into this mess and I’m going to get you out of it, but right now I need to protect you. I need to take you somewhere safe.” So many things about what he just said left you with more questions than before. You searched his face like it would reveal all the answers, but he sighed and stood up realizing you didn’t understand. 

“First, I have so many questions. Second, who is they? What mess? What happened? Why am I not safe?” You trailed off and he started pacing across the floor and it made you even more uneasy than before. Mitch looked worried and that made you worried. “Mitch, what did you do?” He stopped in his tracks and thought about it for a second, then turned back and leaned down putting a hand on either side of you against the mattress. He looked deep into your eyes and pulled his bottom lip back between his teeth.

“That’s the thing. I didn’t do anything.” Just when you thought you couldn’t be any more confused, he proved you wrong. He stood up and you threw your hands in the air declaring defeat. You were about to speak when you heard cautious footsteps outside of the door. Mitch ran over and kneeled in front of you, covering your mouth with his hand again.

“Really?” You said through his palm and rolled your eyes, but he jerked his head towards you shooting darts and giving you a look that screamed ‘ _ shut up _ .’ He looked back to the door and pulled you up to meet him. His expression was a mix of fear and anger, contorting his face into an unfamiliar shape. He cupped your cheeks with both his hands and held you in his gaze, his eyes betraying his serious face.

“Do you trust me?” All you could do was nod, your heart racing in your chest as you feared it would rip through. The door flew open and men poured in with guns and masks. You could immediately tell they weren’t military, but they moved like they were, with order and precision. Mitch fell to his knees and raised his hands up in surrender, you could do nothing but follow his motions. Your heart stopped and you held your breath, trying to process exactly what was happening. Who were these people? Are they going to actually kill you? Five of them piled into the room and then the door was shut behind them. The one who appeared to be in charge came over to Mitch and looked him over, the only thing visible through his mask were his eyes. Another man pointed a gun to Mitch’s head and he shot darts at the person behind the gun. The leader walked over to where you were and kneeled down as he was inches from your face.

You were shaking and Mitch looked over and grunted when the man brushed the back of his hand across your cheek. You shut your eyes and gritted your teeth, holding back tears that were blurring your sight. “Take him, they want him alive.” The man with the gun grabbed Mitch’s arm and pulled him up while another came to his other side. He pulled from them, but their grip was too tight. As they were taking him to the door, the leader continued. “I’ll be out in ten.” You opened your eyes and stared straight into his soulless eyes. The mask covered his face but you knew he was wearing a devilish smile underneath and you knew exactly what he was planning to do.

Mitch’s blood started boiling at the menacing words of the man and it was all he needed to fight back. He screamed as he ripped away from the grip of one of them men holding him. He dropped to the floor, pulling a knife from his boot and stabbed it into the side of the man's leg where his knee was and Mitch pulled it out at an angle, destroying the tendon. He plunged it into the other man's thigh and then slashed his throat when he fell to the ground. A third man pulled out his gun with a silencer and shot at him, but Mitch used the body of the man on the floor to shield him. He grabbed the gun from the man who was now dead’s holster and shot the third man in the head. He rolled and shot the fourth man in his head as well before he could react.

The leader was holding you as a shield, holding his gun to your head and Mitch kept his weapon trailed on the man in case he gave him an opening. One of the men behind him gurgled, so without hesitating or taking his eyes off you, he shot the man and then put the gun back in your direction. There was no point in holding the tears back now, whimpers escaped your lips and you just kept shaking your head and whispering to yourself. “No, no, I can’t die like this. I don’t want to die.” The man holding you let out a maniacal laugh, as though he didn’t fear death or had no doubts of his abilities against Mitch.

“Let her go.” Mitch spat through gritted teeth, looking like it was taking everything in him not to tear the man apart. You had only ever seen this look in his eyes once before, when he talked about how he would kill the men who killed Katrina. After seeing what he just did, you had no doubt in your mind that he could. His face was turning red from rage and he tightened his grip around the gun. The man pulled you closer to his body in response, causing a pathetic noise to escape your lips. For a brief second Mitch looked at you with pity, but he didn’t stay there long, returning his gaze of fury to the bastard holding you hostage.

You could see the wheels turning in his head, trying to figure out what his best options were. He gave you a look and you knew what he wanted you to do. You wiggled slightly underneath the man’s grip, making his hold uncomfortable and causing him to shift his weight. He exposed his foot and Mitch took advantage, shooting it. He threw you away from him in pain and you landed on the bed, crawling up it and as close to the wall as you could. Mitch lunged at the man and punched him in the face. The man shouted and threw a punch back, reopening the gash above Mitch’s eye. The man threw another punch but Mitch ducked down and pushed him back, knocking him down and spinning around until he was on top of him. His rage took over as he relentlessly pounded into the mans face, long after he was unconscious. It occurred to you that he was going to have a severe brain injury soon if he didn’t already.

“Mitch!” You shouted and he hesitated with his fist in the air. He turned to look at you and his teeth were clashing, his eyes full of fire and fury that sent a chill down your spine. You stared back with wide eyes in horror and he let his arm drop down to his side as he stood up. He ran over to you without saying a word, grabbed your wrist and pulled you off the bed and out of the room. “Mitch...what just…” He pulled you through the corridors of the hospital and you realized he was taking you to the back entrance through the basement. He knew exactly where he was going, like he had been in the building before. You stopped and ripped your hand from his grip. He swung around and looked at you, jutting his jaw out as he cornered you against the wall and he slammed his palm against it while shouting past your ear. He lost control over his rage and it was coursing freely through his veins. All you could do was look back at him horrified, tears accumulating in your eyes again. “Mitch…” you whispered.

His face immediately changed back the one you knew of pain and regret as he backed away until his back hit the wall parallel to you. His head fell and he whimpered as he spoke. “I’m sorry.” A part of you wanted to run to him, throw your arms around him and comfort him, but your instincts were telling you to be cautious and fear this man. You just saw him flawlessly and ruthlessly take out five armed men with nothing but a knife. He killed them, all of them. You had always known he was capable of such things, but seeing him doing it, cementing that idea and it becoming a reality was different. He was everything you were against. You were a doctor who swore and oath to do no harm, to save lives despite who the life belonged to, bring health and heal. This man was a trained killer, a grim reaper, the bringer of death and destruction.

He looked up at you and tears were falling down his cheeks. You had seen his eyes water once before, but this was different. He was hurting and this was his way of begging for help. You lifted your hand slightly from the wall you were clinging to and Mitch noticed. His body timidly raised from the wall in hopes that you were coming to him, but when you let your hand fall back down to your side, defeat covered his face. He wiped his eyes and hardened his features as he walked over to you and took your wrist again. “We’re leaving.” He spoke harshly without looking at you as he pulled you along again. It wasn’t a question or a suggestion, but an order that you had no choice in.

You made it out of the building and he let your hand drop as he neared a car. He turned his back to it and rammed his elbow into the glass window where a person would sit behind the driver. The noise made you jump, causing you to recognize the trauma the last twenty minutes had caused you. You gulped as Mitch’s face remained hard and he walked back over to where he left you, motionless and frozen, and he pulled you over to the car and put you in the passenger seat. He walked around and got into the driver's seat, leaned down and pulled out some wires. He found the ones he was looking for and twisted them together as the engine roared to life.

You were petrified and couldn’t move, your body and mind still as the world continued on without you. Mitch pulled out of the empty parking lot and started towards the highway. Your mind started hurling questions at you. What the fuck is happening? What the fuck just happened? Where was he taking you? Was this your life now? Could you even trust Mitch? Were you going to die? You closed your eyes and swallowed a deep breath as tears made a steady stream down your cheek. Mitch seemed oblivious to your state as he focused on the road. You opened your eyes and couldn't help but notice how obscenely fast he was driving, weaving in and out of traffic flawlessly.

“Mitch, I need you to pull over.” He ignored you, his jaw jutting out and his nose scrunched up. “Mitch, please.” He squinted his eyes at your voice but still refused to rip his eyes from the road. “MITCH STOP THE FUCKING CAR.” You screamed and he looked to you, shooting daggers and pulled his lips in with anger as he veered the car off the road. As soon as it stopped, you jumped out and ran a good distance from it. Your memories flew back to the night Mitch ran to you in the field, but this was different...he was different. He was still sitting in the car, his hand holding his chin while his other tapped impatiently on the steering wheel. You stood there on the side of the highway, holding your stomach as tears ran down while listening to the sound of cars passing by.

He finally got out of the car and stalked over to you. “We need to go.”

“No!” You screamed at him as you tore away from his grasp. He bore a hole into you as he widened his eyes. He was angry with you, but you couldn’t figure out why for the life of you. You’re the one who should be angry, he has no right to treat you like this. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what the fuck is going on!” He closed his eyes and turned to the side as he put his hands on his hips. He took a minute to compose himself and think of the right words to say.

“Look, I will tell you everything okay? But right now we need to go. They’re not far behind us.”

“Who are ‘they’?” You shouted, not even trying to hold your temper.

Mitch couldn’t hold his anymore either as he faced you and screamed, “I DON’T KNOW!” You retreated back and fell into yourself, scared the man would hurt you. He immediately recognized his mistake and took a few steps back himself. It dawned on you that he wasn’t actually mad at you like you had thought, but mad with what was going on, mad at himself. You tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth and hesitantly walked up to him. You lightly let your fingers fall onto his arm and he looked back up to you with pain and fear. He grabbed you and pulled you into his chest as he squeezed you so tight it almost hurt. You wrapped your arms around his waist and he nuzzled his face into your neck.

You were the one to break the embrace, still uncomfortable from the recent events and Mitch could tell. He let go and stepped back, giving you some space. “Will you please come back to the car?” His tone had changed and was more sincere and offering. All you did was nod, fearing your voice would only stir his anger again. You followed him back into the car and you both continued on in silence. With everything that had happened, you were physically and emotionally drained so it wasn’t long before you couldn’t hold sleep back anymore. You drifted off to the sight of streetlamps passing by.


End file.
